DEAD GONE (32 page)

He was taunting them. Taunting him. Whoever he was. He wanted Murphy to know he was in control.

Murphy began to remove the gloves he’d had to put on before seeing the scene, snapping them off, and throwing them to the floor. Anger building in his chest.

He was escalating.

Murphy knew what he had to do. Pretend the last year hadn’t happened. Be calm, assured.

Murphy beckoned Rossi back over. She hurried back, a concerned look in her eyes.

‘He’s getting careless, Laura,’ Murphy said when Rossi got to him. ‘I think we’ll have him soon enough. He hasn’t realised we know about the cab. He’ll still be driving it.’ Murphy looked around, there were no windows overlooking the small grassy area where the body had been found. ‘Who found him?’

‘The woman over there,’ Rossi replied, pointing to a middle-aged woman. ‘She’d brought her dog out with her whilst she was walking up to the offy about five minutes up the road. Walked up here to let the dog do his business. Stumbled across the victim’s … parts.’

‘Okay. It can’t have been long after he was dropped here. See if she remembers the black hack as well.’

‘Will do.’ Rossi replied.

Rossi walked off in the direction of the woman. Murphy moved towards a small wall which surrounded the grass and sat down on it. Pain fired across his forehead. He closed his eyes, instantly trying to force out the images which appeared as soon his eyelids shut.

They wouldn’t go.

He held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples slowly. A position he was becoming used to assuming.

‘Sir?’

Murphy lifted his head to see a SOCO stood over him. ‘Yes?’

‘Dr Houghton asked me to bring this over. I’m supposed to stay with you whilst you read it. If that’s okay?’

‘Of course.’ Murphy took the plastic bag containing the letter from the SOCO. Moved closer to the light to read it.

EXPERIMENT SIX

Detective Murphy,

He was too close, he wouldn’t stop looking. He had to go. Just like with the others.

Do you remember the Unit 731 experiments? I had to try that out.

I removed his body parts one by one, over a lengthy period of time. Waited to see the light go out.

I dislike the name the papers have given me. Maybe you could talk to someone about that, David?

Do you know how it feels to end someone’s life? To be the cause of it? It’s unlike anything you can imagine. So much more than I expected it to be. When you kill animals in experimental situations, rats, dogs, etc. you think you can treat human subjects with the same apathy. It doesn’t work like that though. It takes you over, a hunger for more.

But, then you have to factor in your own survival. It’s still a gamble. One that I am willing to take.

Yet, none of the experiments really matter.

Except for one.

One experiment I started this whole process with. An ongoing investigation, which is almost at its end.

And I’m torn as what to do when it’s finished. Should I terminate the project, just as I have with so many before? Or do I reveal the results of my hard work?

For all to see. A masterpiece.

Decisions, decisions.

What would you do, Detective Murphy? Would you give up on the whole thing, just in case it leads to *my* end? Or would you take the chance to show the world what can be done?

It’s a tough one. I’ll be chewing it over in the coming days.

In the meantime, I’ll let your fruitless investigation go on.

I am so enjoying the game. I hope you are too, Detective. Experiment Six was so much fun to act out. That’s four bodies you’ve found now.

Of course, that’s only the ones I have let you find.

Do you know how many people go missing every year, every day? Thousands. Never to be seen again.

Still, I do have that nagging worry over what to do about the experiment.

Not long left now. And then onto pastures new I guess.

In the end, all that matters, is that what I do lives on forever. No one will ever forget what happened in this city, by my hands.

Murphy handed the bag containing the letter back to the SOCO, looked for a uniformed officer. He beckoned to a young woman who was manning the police cordon, and she hurried over.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘I need you to check that everyone is on the lookout for that cab.’

‘Okay.’ She took her radio off her shoulder and talked to control. Murphy waited as she explained what she needed.

‘Thanks,’ Murphy said, moving away from the officer. He went over to where Rossi was studiously taking notes from the witness. As he reached her, she was thanking the woman for her time, and telling her what to expect next. Murphy waited for her to finish her spiel, before taking her by the arm and leading her away.

‘Laura. We need to find this guy now. We don’t have much time. He’s planning something.’

‘The letter?’ Rossi asked.

‘Yeah. He talks about an experiment and having to make a decision over someone’s life. We need to find him before that happens.’

Rossi nodded, as Murphy rubbed his temples again. ‘First though, we check out the victim’s house. See if anything can help us there.’

‘We were only in there a few days ago. Didn’t find anything.’ Rossi replied.

‘We don’t know what he’s been doing in the past few days. He was close to something. We need to find out what.’ Murphy reached into his inside pocket, took out some paracetemol, and dry swallowed two. ‘We best get the next one right. Everyone we suspect seems to end up dead within a couple of days.’

Rossi attempted a smile, but Murphy knew it was for show. She was feeling the pressure almost as much as he was.

The wind whipped around the green, rippling the tent which surrounded the body parts in the distance. Haunted faces of various officers stood around the scene, Murphy looking around for inspiration.

It would take a long time to forget this one.

She was thirsty. Cold as well. She hadn’t eaten for a while, just to see what would happen. It was okay though, her dad was with her. He’d turned up some time ago, she could hear his voice talking to her from the corner. She hadn’t been able to see him though, it was too dark. Plus every time she ran towards the voice, he’d disappear. Playing probably, she thought. He always had a strange sense of humour.

It was nice not to be alone any more. She’d been alone for so long.

The walls didn’t talk to her any more. Every now and again she’d wake up after eating to find things had changed, the air in the room smelled differently. Expensive aftershave, a musky scent lingering in the air.

And then the silence. Stretched out for so long. She slept often, her dreams becoming more vivid as time had gone by.

She dreamt of Rob.

She’d heard him recently. She thought he’d been here, but he couldn’t be. Not here. Not down in the darkness.

‘My name is Jemma. Jemma Barnes.’

She repeated it to herself often. She was scared of forgetting. She couldn’t remember so much now. Her thoughts ran into each other, not making any sense. She heard noises coming from the walls one second, then she’d listen more carefully and not hear anything.

He hadn’t touched her. Not there.

She’d know. ‘I’d know,’ she said towards the dim noise she could constantly hear. It sounded louder sometimes. Things kept changing around her, she was sure of it. ‘Don’t think you’d get away with it.’

She paced out the room again. ‘One, two, three, five, six.’ She’d forgotten again.

‘Four!’

She sat down heavily on the floor, pain shooting up her back. She enjoyed it now. The pain she could inflict on herself. She could bang her head against the wall until something cracked. Or she knocked herself out. ‘Make it permanent.’ She laughed, the sound echoing in the room. It didn’t sound like her.

‘Who’s there?’

There was no answer.

He’d been here. Rob had been down there with her. She’d heard him through the walls.

‘No. No he wasn’t. My name is Jemma Barnes.’ Her throat was sore. She shouldn’t shout. She needed water.

She scrabbled across the floor to find what should be there. She couldn’t find it.

‘Where is it? Come on, I know it’s here.’

Her fingers brushed against something solid. She brought it up to her face, the coolness now gone. She unscrewed the cap and poured the contents down her throat. The water was warm, but no less soothing.

She found the food next. She remembered food. She hadn’t eaten for four days. That was her best guess.

‘Four,’ she muttered to herself. She took the food and turned to face the opposite way whilst still sitting. She got to her feet, walked slowly forwards, stopping when her right foot hit the toilet. She squatted down and put the food in the bowl.

It had come to her when she’d heard Rob.

‘Not him. It wasn’t him.’

She felt guilty. She was worried, about the conversations she’d had with her mum and friends. About Rob.

A drama queen, that’s what she was. Needed a little more excitement so she’d exaggerated things with them, made them believe her and Rob were having problems. One argument became so many more.

She needed to get out. She wanted to make sure. That it wasn’t him. She could take being locked away in the darkness. The man had told her she’d be let out eventually. She just had to be patient. But then she’d heard his voice, his pain, and she was no longer certain.

So she’d begun looking for a way out again. She spent so much time trying to force her way out the solid door, open the hatch from the inside so she could crawl out. She’d ran her hands down her sides, feeling the rib bones poking out from beneath the thin t-shirt she’d been wearing recently. Sometimes the man had put her in a jumper, they always smelled the same.

Sweet, like lavender.

It had come to her quite soon after she’d lost half her right index fingernail, trying to create an opening where one wasn’t to be found.

She could block the toilet somehow. He’d have to come down there, and she would claw her way out. With all nine fingernails. A kick to the bollocks, and he’d go down quick enough. Whatever it took to get out of the room.

She’d kept some toilet roll to one side, just in case, and then stuck the rest of the roll down the toilet. Then she’d put food wrappers down there.

Then the next time the hatch opened, she’d drunk the water and not eaten. Putting the sandwiches and chocolate down the bowl.

That time was the eighth.

The man hadn’t been down there. She hadn’t gone to sleep without wanting to. She was hungry, she worried about not having any strength to fight him.

She moved over to the mattress in the other corner, sat with her back against the wall. She could see Rob’s face in the darkness, a blurred memory now. She couldn’t remember if he’d had stubble or a full beard when she last saw him.

‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll be home soon,’ she whispered to him.

Her dad sang to her.

‘
Frère Jacques, frère Jacques. Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines. Sonnez les matines. Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.’

She smiled. Then lay down her head on the mattress, and closed her eyes, letting her dad’s voice sing her to sleep.

She hadn’t wanted to sleep.

They showed ID to the uniform standing at the door and climbed the stairs to Rob Barker’s flat. Nicotine-stained ceilings in the communal hallway, black mould patches in the corners, the wallpaper peeling away from the damp.

Murphy wanted to smoke. A nice pack of twenty L&B would do nicely. Smoke them down to the filter and then light another as he was putting out the last.

The craving never leaves you.

‘When did he move here?’ Murphy said, as they entered the flat.

‘He had to give up the house three months ago,’ Rossi replied, looking through the notes she’d scribbled down on the way over. ‘It was in his name and when his partner didn’t come back, he couldn’t afford to keep it. Mortgage was too high.’

They walked up the small, narrow staircase, a small wattage bulb hanging in the entrance providing the only light. The flat smelled musty, dirty dishes and damp clothes emanating from inside.

‘Do we know when the last sighting of him was?’ Murphy asked as they reached the top of the stairs.

‘He called in sick to work two days ago. That’s the last we know at this moment.’ Rossi replied.

They were wearing gloves, SOCOs coming up the stairs behind them. They went left at the top of the stairs, entering a small living room which was slightly lit by the rising sun streaming through the uncurtained window. Someone behind Murphy, switched a light on bathing the room in starker light.

Murphy was taken aback by the sparseness of the room, just a small sofa and TV taking up most of the space. There was a desk in the opposite corner to the TV, which Murphy thought he’d have a lot of trouble sitting at, given its size. A door to the right of the desk was open, and Murphy could see a small kitchen leading off it. Murphy and Rossi stood aside as the SOCOs took their time taking photographs and labelling anything of interest. Only a few days since they’d done something similar. There was no evidence the killing had taken place at the flat, but with four bodies in total and DCI Stephen’s orders still ringing in their ears, they were looking for any clue they could find.

They were allowed to start looking around after a while, Murphy already having taken stock of the room from his position near the doorway.

‘Laptop on the desk.’ Rossi said as Murphy approached it. ‘Is it on?’

Murphy stopped in front of the desk, bending slightly to miss the ceiling which dipped at that point. He lifted the lid and was surprised to see it running. It was plugged in, the lead running alongside the laptop. ‘It’s on. No password either. Take a look, Laura.’

Rossi moved over, sitting in the small chair as Murphy took the piles of paper stacked next to it on the desk. Murphy walked over to the sofa and began going through the pieces. A couple of pages down, Murphy read a few hurried notes, and set the page aside.