Kaleidoscope (22 page)
She picked it up and stared at the tiny photograph of Cassie for a moment, studying the round, smiling face through the cracked glass. She wanted to lie on the bed and gaze at the photo for a few hours when, after a while, she would fall asleep with the picture of her daughter filling her dreams. But that wouldn't happen, sleep would never come in this place; not now, or ever.
She took the broken picture with her and left, stumbling down the stairs and back out into the street. She placed the photo frame on the passenger seat beside her and started the car, revving the engine hard as if to highlight her departure. She glanced up towards the window of her flat and slowly shook her head. She knew she would never return now; she was finished with that place - finished with that life.
As she sat behind the wheel and drove towards her mother's home, Sarah thought briefly of the scarred man and the mask he appeared to wear. He had saved her, and she was grateful to him, but would be more than happy to never lay eyes on him again. In spite of him rescuing her, there was something disturbing in that face. She didn't want to dwell on anything from the past few days and the thoughts of him were quickly lost in an ocean of others.
She drove fast all the way, unable to contain her excitement of seeing the little girl in the picture beside her, which she glanced down to every few seconds. Her life would be different now, she told herself. She had told herself the same thing hundreds of times before but for the first time in years, she believed it.
Things will be different, it'll be better!
Everyone can change.
***
Kelser carried the box through to the back of the barn and placed it inside the cage that, for the past few days, had been home to the girl. He stood in the darkened room in silence and closed his eyes, trying to think of nothing. But thoughts began to creep inside, like roots from a tree breaking through tarmac and he winced as he thought of the dead bodies in the barn.
The thoughts lingered for barely a moment before he forced them into submission and regained his composure. He had become used to beating down the guilt and the nightmares and his face slowly returned to its vacant, emotionless appearance. He glanced down to his watch, suddenly realising something for the first time. The date was
Chapter 21
The calendar on the wall in Lewis's flat told him it was
But this didn't concern Lewis as he stared at the thick scar that painted the left side of his face. It had been two months since he had killed Jonah and gained the injury, but it felt like decades. He had closed the wound using only steri-strips, refusing to risk a hospital admission, and it had not healed well. It was broad and long, stretching from his left eye and down, through the beard before thinning to a point at the bottom of his jaw.
He picked up an aerosol of shaving foam and sprayed some into his hand then spread it over the bottom half of his face, nursing it into the beard around the scar carefully. He used a fresh blade in his razor and delicately ran it down his face. Hair fell into the sink below. He took his time and was careful as he moved the blade over the tender skin around the healing wound.
When he was finished, he threw the blunted razor into the bin and scrutinised himself in the mirror. The face gazing back looked older and more tired than the one he had been used to. His pupils were dark, looking more like the black marble eyes of a shark. He ran a towel over his face and returned to the front room where he glanced at the unopened birthday cards.
He had barely spoken to another human being in the two months since he became a killer, closing himself in his cocoon as he slowly made the metamorphosis inside that had been initiated the moment he pushed the knife into Jonah's chest.
Lewis had been a nervous wreck in the first few days, panic attacks haunting him like some kind of malicious poltergeist. He was convinced the police would knock at his door and arrest him for the murder at any time and he barely ate or slept during those early days. But the police didn't call and the murder of Jonah hailed only a small article on the website of the local newspaper. Jonah was a known drug dealer and it came as little surprise to the authorities that his end arrived in such a way.
As the days past by and the threat of arrest became less of an issue, Lewis contemplated what Jonah had told him about the murder of Hannah. He pushed away the details of her death and instead concentrated on the part about the man known as Hal, and of course Joseph Hellam.
Guilt would rise and fall repetitively as the days dropped away. Some days, Lewis felt almost no regret - Jonah deserved to die for what he had done to Hannah. But at other times, he questioned his actions and was unable to fully believe that he had killed another human being. He felt sick that he had taken such a route rather than going to the police with what he had discovered. But it was too late for that now; Lewis knew he had started along a path and he had to see it through, no matter what.
The guilt subsided slowly as he began to rationalise his actions and his thoughts changed. The thought that Jonah deserved to die gradually led him to other thoughts which could not be ignored. If Jonah deserved to die, then surely his companion in the murder and the man who ordered the death in the first place, also deserved such a fate.
Lewis contemplated the situation almost constantly during his waking hours, sometimes dreaming of various scenarios as well. He was confident that he would be able to find the man with the tattoo known as Hal, but his biggest problem would be getting to Hellam. Even if he found a way and managed to kill him in cold blood, where would that leave him? Who would he be killing? To the general public, Joseph Hellam was a kind and respected member of the community and his murder would cause outrage. Not only that, but Lewis would definitely be caught for killing such a man; a man who had given millions to charitable causes over the years. Lewis could protest and offer information to the fact that Hellam ordered the murder of Hannah, but who would believe him? He had no definitive proof that Hellam was involved and Lewis was certain he would have suitable distance between himself and any direct evidence of involvement in the murder which might exist.
As he thought about all of this, his mind continued to fall back to George Langton, the former teacher and now, for some inexplicable reason, involved in Hellam's business in some way. He couldn't shake the feeling that Langton could somehow be his way 'in'. Perhaps provide some information in some way. But how? And why would Langton bother?
The weeks rolled by and Lewis's scar began to heal, not closing as much as he would have hoped, but the pain had subsided to the point where it was no longer a constant distraction.
As he continued to contemplate Langton, he began to ask questions about Michelle Layne, wondering about the proximity of her disappearance to where Langton lived at the time. He went back onto 192.com and paid a small fee in order to see the full address of Langton's home in Alderidge. Shocked, he then re-checked the old newspaper archives of the time and found that George Langton lived on
Forest Road
, the same street on which Michelle Layne lived. Lewis could barely believe this coincidence and he dwelled on it for several days, running through the available details of Langton's life.
George Langton, albeit in a hushed manner, was a man dismissed by his school for inappropriate behaviour with female pupils. He then moved to a small village in
Somerset
. Two years later, Michelle Layne, a thirteen-year-old girl who lived on the same street as Langton, went missing under suspicious circumstances. The police questioned Langton, but never suspected him of anything; why should they? The circumstances for his dismissal were covered up and never disclosed in order to conserve the school's reputation. George Langton was therefore never placed on the sex offenders register and by-passed all systems that would place him in the authorities radar as a possible suspect.
Lewis considered this and ran through the scenario again and again. Perhaps it would be jumping to conclusions to say that George Langton was definitely the man responsible for Michelle's disappearance. But at the same time, Lewis had to acknowledge the fact that, had the police known about his history, then he would have almost definitely been on their list of suspects. It was a long shot and Lewis knew it, but it was certainly something that he could use as possible leverage in getting information from Langton.
Lewis began to write more notes in his pad about the various people involved, and over the weeks, the pages filled with various lists and diagrams. He put a line through Jonah's page and concentrated on Hal, George Langton and Joseph Hellam.
He began to follow Hellam, who was often accompanied by Langton, and noted where he went and with whom he spoke. On one occasion, he saw him pick up a large man in his limousine. Lewis noticed the large butterfly that was tattooed on the man's arm and realised who he was immediately.
The notepad became full and was joined by several more as Lewis obsessively kept details on every insight he gleamed into Langton and Hellam's lives. He kept track of where they went, who they met, where their favourite places were to eat and drink. He slowly became an expert in the parts of their lives that he could gain from a distance.
On one occasion, Lewis followed Langton to a bar and watched him become inebriated during the course of the evening. This was a little odd and certainly out of character since Langton never usually went drinking alone. Lewis followed him as he staggered home and stumbled into his house, mumbling something to himself. It was only later that evening, while Lewis was sitting in his flat, that he noticed the date. It was the fourteenth anniversary of Michelle Layne's disappearance. Again, it could have been a coincidence, but the more Lewis discovered, the more convinced he became that Langton was the man responsible. There was nothing definitive, certainly nothing that the police could use to convict him, especially without a body, but all the small coincidences coalesced and began to gain momentum inside Lewis's mind.
As the weeks changed into months, he began to assemble a plan in order to expose Hellam as the man he really was - the criminal, the murderer. He followed him and then followed the people he met with. He became confident that Hellam was involved in a number of criminal activities involving drugs and prostitution in some way. But Lewis knew that Hellam distanced himself through several degrees of personnel and was never committed to direct involvement.
Through old newspaper articles, Lewis learned that the police had conducted a short investigation into Hellam a few years earlier but it had come to nothing; Hellam just couldn't be pinned down as being involved in anything criminal and could always claim ignorance if some of his employees
were
in some way associated with criminality - the trail ended long before it ever led to Hellam and no charges were brought against him.
Lewis slowly realised that he needed to get close to Hellam in order to truly expose him. He would need to find a way to get hold of something - anything that could reveal who he truly was: documents, records or witnesses. Lewis remembered Hannah's letter and the 'bad films' she mentioned. It had certainly crossed her mind to go to the police and that was what had ultimately led to her death. But Lewis wondered if he could obtain these films somehow and use them as proof of Hellam's criminality.
He knew that he wouldn't be able to get as close to Hellam as Hannah had when she had found the films, but he might be able to get close enough to gain some kind of incriminating information. His thoughts also returned to his suspicions of George Langton and wondered if he could exploit that information somehow. Lewis wasn't certain of all the facts, but knew he had to gain a degree of trust from Hellam for his plan to work.
The unopened birthday cards remained in their envelopes on the table as he ran a hand across his now smooth chin. The weeks of following people and making notes were almost at an end. He picked up a photograph from the table that had been its home for the past few weeks then carried it into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and began to drink, gazing at the picture between mouthfuls.
Hannah was in the centre, surrounded by her friends as Lewis stared at her with a curious smile. As he stared at Hannah's face now, he didn't feel like smiling anymore and wasn't sure if he ever would again. He no longer felt like the man in that picture; he had changed from one into another, like the rotating shapes inside the kaleidoscope.
But there was something constant between the man in the photo and the killer he now was; something that was entirely undeniable and represented by the beaming face of Hannah.
Both men did, and always would, love her.
