Urban myth, p.21
Urban Myth, page 21
‘But you left her DVDs.’
‘We took the view that it didn’t matter because we knew you’d find out she was working for us anyway.’
Temple’s whole body felt numb and hollowed out. He now knew who had killed Genna Boyd. All the questions relating to her death had been answered. Crime solved. And yet it looked as though he’d be taking that knowledge to his grave. Nathan Slade would then be held responsible for the murders of Genna Boyd and the Keaton family. And when the movie featuring the Keatons eventually surfaced he’d be blamed for that too.
‘Let’s record the grand finale,’ Wallis said, breaking into Temple’s thoughts. ‘I’ll put the wife and kids back on the TV.’
Roth nodded. ‘And I’ll go to the basement. Make sure you get good close-ups of Keaton’s face from the start.’
Temple cleared his throat and spoke with a nervous wheeze. ‘What are you going to do?’
Roth walked over to a low metal filing cabinet pushed up against the wall and Temple craned his neck to watch him. Roth then took off his shirt. Beneath it he was a muscular brute with a six-pack and solid pecs. He dropped the shirt onto the filing cabinet, then reached down to a rucksack on the floor. From this he took out a kitchen knife and a black rubber head mask with slits for the eyes and mouth.
Then his lips curled into a slow, cruel smile.
‘All great horror movies end with a bloodbath, Inspector,’ he said. ‘The youngsters will be shot and the mother will have her throat cut – as per the script. And to add to the drama we’ll record Jack Keaton watching it live on TV. It’ll be the most unforgettable scene ever shot.’
‘You sick bastards,’ Temple shouted. ‘This is insane. You’ll be arrested within days. There’s a ton of forensic evidence here.’
‘There soon won’t be,’ Roth said. ‘When we leave here tonight we’re going to set fire to the house. That’s how the movie will end – with Keaton burning alive. Then we’ll leave Slade’s car in town – complete with the murder weapons and traces of Genna’s blood. Oh, yeah, and we’ll have to get rid of you.’
Roth gave Wallis a kiss on the mouth before slipping the mask over his head. Temple winced. The crazy monster looked like a figure from a nightmare. As Roth moved towards the hatch Temple started yelling and begging for them to spare the family. But his entreaties fell on deaf ears.
‘If you don’t shut the fuck up you’ll get this in your eye,’ Wallis shouted.
She produced a hypodermic syringe from the breast pocket of her shirt and brandished it like a dagger.
Temple felt all vestige of hope desert him.
He clenched his eyes shut and started to pray.
46
I sat on the sofa for several minutes, trying to silence the screaming in my head and the relentless thudding in my chest. I needed to pull myself together and focus. I had to find a way through the abject terror that was consuming me.
But when I opened my eyes a new wave of panic surged through my body. I took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, then let it out in a slow stream.
That’s when I noticed Nathan Slade’s guest folder, the one containing the information on the house and the forest. It was lying open on the coffee table, right in front of me.
It seized my attention because I recalled that Nicole had been reading it when I came back into the house after losing my temper with Michael. As I stared at it now I felt my forehead crease into a frown. What did it contain that had puzzled me when I first glanced through it? And why did I have the strangest feeling that whatever it was it might somehow be significant?
I reached over and picked it up. It was open somewhere in the middle. On the left side was the leaflet on the house.
I suddenly remembered what had struck me as odd about it. On the cover it described King’s Manor as a ‘stunning six-bedroom guest house’. Yet there were only five bedrooms. On the other side of the folder was a laminated A4 sheet containing typewritten information about the house, along with two small photos dated 1910.
One of the photos showed a man wearing a cloth cap who was pouring coal into a chute set into the ground at the rear of the house. The other photo was of Elizabeth Maddox, the widow of the original owner who was said to haunt the property.
Despite all that was happening I found myself intrigued by the leaflet and the photos. It was as if a voice inside my head was telling me I should be seeing something here that wasn’t immediately obvious.
I opened the leaflet. It was well produced and in glossy colour. Inside was a montage of photos showing interior and exterior shots of King’s Manor. My eyes were drawn to one particular photo. I stared at it for a long time before what I was seeing fully registered.
It showed an exterior door at the bottom of a short concrete stairwell. The wording beneath it read: One of our bedrooms is in the basement and has its own entrance at the rear of the house. What was once a large cellar for storing coal has been converted into beautifully appointed accommodation.
Instinctively, I looked again at the photo of the cloth-capped man pouring coal into the chute. Had the chute been turned into the basement entrance? But if so why hadn’t I seen it? And why hadn’t Slade told us about the extra room?
I turned again to the leaflet and studied the other photos. There was one of the living room, and others showing the bedrooms and kitchen. The rooms did not look much different to how they looked now, though some of the wall colours had changed. But there was one exception – the hallway.
If I hadn’t been studying the photos so closely I probably would have missed it. But now I could see it clearly. In the alcove under the stairs there was a door and it was slightly open.
I dropped the folder on the table and hurried into the hallway. The muscles in my stomach clenched as I stared into the spacious alcove. Where the door should have been there was a wall with patterned wallpaper and several framed pictures. It was immediately obvious what had happened. Both entrances to the basement bedroom had been blocked off and concealed.
But why?
I was about to move closer to see if the old door was still there when I heard a noise in the living room.
It sounded like an explosion of static and I realized that the TV had ‘magically’ come back on.
I rushed back into the living room. Shock and outrage forced a shrill moan out of my mouth when I saw what was on the screen. I fell to my knees in front of the TV, then reached out and ran the tips of my fingers across the glass.
Nicole, Tina, Michael.
It was a scene straight out of hell. I had to will myself not to buckle under the crushing weight of despair. But at least they were together – and alive.
They were secured to a bed with black tape. Their eyes were open, thank goodness. Tina and Michael were moving their heads and looking around fearfully. But Nicole’s head remained still and she stared straight at me.
Or rather straight at the friggin’ camera.
The picture changed suddenly and I saw the bed from a different angle. It was a wide shot this time, revealing more of the room they were in. I saw bedside tables, a brown carpet, a wall with a door set in it.
Something in my brain sizzled and I began to feel dizzy. I tried to concentrate, to focus, to think.
A bedroom. It had to be close by. The cameras must have been linked to the television. And then it clicked: the basement. My family were in the fucking basement. Right below where I was standing. It explained a lot, and at the same time raised a whole set of new questions.
Go get them, screamed a voice in my head. You know the way. Go now.
But just then the door on the far side of the basement room was thrown open. I watched, mesmerized, as a bare-chested figure wearing a black mask stepped into the room. In one hand he carried a shotgun, in the other a large knife.
Fear clutched at my stomach as I watched the hulking figure tower over my family. He was no ghostly apparition; he was real and he was terrifying.
I could see the blood rush into my wife’s face as she fought desperately to wriggle free.
The man stepped up to them. His movements were slow, deliberate, and it was clear he wanted to prolong the terror. He shoved the knife into his belt and reached over to rip the strip of tape from Michael’s mouth. The boy immediately let out a pitiful scream before he started coughing and choking on his own phlegm.
The man then leaned over Michael and tore the strip from Tina’s mouth. She started gulping in air like someone who’d been saved from drowning. What was happening was truly grotesque and inhuman. I could barely believe it wasn’t part of some horrific nightmare.
Don’t just stand there. Do something. Find the door. There’s still time.
The voice in my head jarred me into action. I forced my eyes away from the screen and dashed across the room. In the hallway I made straight for the alcove below the stairs and began searching frantically for its guilty secret. It did not take me long to find it. There was no handle, but up close I could see the outline of the door, which, from a distance, was camouflaged by the patterned wallpaper. The frame had been removed so the door was flush against the wall.
I tried pushing at it but it wouldn’t give and there was no way I could get my fingers in the gap to try to prise it open. So I used brute force. One, two, three heavy kicks and the door crashed inwards, taking a large chunk of plasterboard with it. Ahead of me was a short wooden staircase. At the bottom was another door and it stood open. Through it I could see the brown carpet I’d just seen on the TV.
As I started down the stairs, I prayed that I wasn’t too late to save my family.
47
Belinda Wallis started yelling at Roth through the microphone.
‘The door’s open. He’s coming down.’
Temple’s eyes were darting between the two monitors. He saw Roth step away from the bed to wait for Keaton to appear in the basement. He was holding the shotgun against his waist and his sweat-soaked body was rigid with tension.
‘I’m coming over,’ Wallis announced, jumping to her feet. ‘Be careful.’
She was in a panic and looked scarily unpredictable. Temple’s heart started to gallop.
‘Let them go,’ he pleaded. ‘Stop this now. Please!’
‘Like fuck,’ she growled.
Then she turned to him and he saw the syringe in her right hand. Before he could react she plunged the needle into the side of his neck. He pitched sideways with a loud shriek. A searing pain erupted in his neck and for a moment everything went out of focus.
‘That’ll keep you quiet for a while,’ Wallis said, as she withdrew the needle and dropped it on the desk.
She then moved swiftly towards the hatch, leaving Temple feeling weak and light-headed. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him from trying his best to avert a bloodbath.
His wrists were bound together behind his back and the duct tape was also attached to the chair. So when he hunched forward and put his weight on his feet, he took the chair with him. Even so, he managed to scuttle across the floor with his knees bent.
Wallis had one leg through the hatch when she turned towards him. But it was too late to stop Temple from slamming into her. She cried out, lost her footing and tumbled through the hatch.
The momentum carried Temple head first through the hatch after her. He went with such force that two of the wooden chair legs snapped off because the opening wasn’t wide enough to take them. As he crashed down the stairs the remaining two legs also broke off. One of them bounced up and struck him in the face.
But that was nothing compared to the battering the rest of his body took en route to the garage floor. He ended up in an untidy heap next to Wallis. She was lying on her back, unconscious. There was a nasty gash on her forehead and blood was seeping from it.
Temple could taste his own blood from a cut lip. When he moved, a wave of dizziness engulfed him. He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath.
Then he tried again and this time it wasn’t so bad. He quickly took stock of his situation and realized that the tape attached to the chair had snapped. So although his wrists were still bound, he was able to lift his arms free of what remained of the chair.
He struggled to his feet and hurried towards the garage door. But before he got there he heard an explosion and knew instinctively that the shotgun had been fired in the house.
48
The masked man shot me as soon as I burst into the basement bedroom. In desperation I’d entered without fear of the consequences.
The blast was deafening and the pain was excruciating as the slug slammed into me. I was hit in the shoulder and the impact threw me against the wall. I slid to the floor, clutching at the wound as blood poured out through my fingers.
At once, shadows began forming at the edges of my vision. I could feel myself slipping towards unconsciousness.
‘Don’t die, Pops,’ I heard Tina cry out. ‘Please don’t leave us.’
My daughter’s voice pulled me back from the edge. I clenched my jaw against the pain, opened my eyes, lifted my head.
The madman was standing over me, smoke issuing from one barrel of the shotgun. Through the slits in the mask I could see his cold, dark eyes. The expression in them was one of sheer exhilaration.
‘Why?’ I managed to say. ‘Why have you done this to us?’
He raised the shotgun, aimed it at my face. That’s when I saw that he also had a knife tucked into his belt.
‘Because you were the ones who came here,’ he said. ‘If it hadn’t been you then it would have been another lucky family.’
What kind of stupid answer was that?
I was about to ask him when someone else came tearing into the room. As the gunman spun round I saw that it was the cop who had come to see us, DCI Temple. His hands were behind his back and he had blood on his face and suit.
He barely had time to take in the scene before the shotgun exploded again. But this time the guy’s aim was off and the slug smashed into the wall a few inches from the cop’s head. The cop lost his balance and keeled over. The gunman was on him in an instant and threw a kick at his face, but the cop turned and the boot struck him on the back of the head. He howled in pain and brought his knees up against his chest.
I saw an opportunity then. I just hoped I had the strength to seize it. My head was full of fog from the pain and loss of blood, but I managed to get myself up and hold my balance. I wasted not a second thinking about what I had to do. I scrambled across the floor and flung myself at the gunman. I took him unawares and the impact winded him. We both went over, hitting the floor with a sickening thump.
He was dazed by the fall so I pressed my advantage and drove a powerful punch into his throat. He groaned out loud and rolled on his back. The guy was big and strong and I knew that if he could get into a position where he could deliver a blow to me it would be over in an instant. The loss of blood was making me weaker by the second. Plus, I was on my own; the cop was barely conscious.
The knife in the guy’s belt was my only hope. And it was there for the taking, if only I could get to it. But he read my thoughts and we both tried to grab the weapon at the same time. He got there first and clamped his fingers around the handle. I seized his wrist, but he whipped his arm back and crawled away from me on all fours.
As he started clambering to his feet, I felt all hope slip away. My mind conjured up an image of the brutalized bodies of my family. The bed soaked in blood. The fear frozen on their faces. Their unanswered cries for help.
And then I heard the voice in my head again.
Stay with it. Stay alive. There’s still hope. Just one more big effort.
The guy was on his feet now, trying to get his balance. I saw my chance. My last chance. I stretched out my good arm and managed to get a firm purchase on his left ankle. Then I yanked it towards me with all the strength I could muster.
The brute fell on his back right in front of me and I saw the knife drop from his hand onto the carpet. I grabbed hold of it before he even realized what had happened.
He cottoned on fast, though. He heaved himself into a sitting position and tried to snatch it back. But as he lunged at me he left his torso exposed and I shoved the knife into his stomach with thunderous force. His blood sprayed my face and air gushed out of his mouth like a punctured balloon.
The shock in his eyes was a pleasure to behold. I just wasn’t in any condition to fully appreciate it.
Suddenly he fell backwards onto the floor. The room went quiet. But after a couple of seconds the silence was shattered by an ear-splitting scream.
I whirled around and stared in disbelief as a woman I had never seen before came bearing down on me. She had blood on her forehead and was holding the shotgun by the barrels. As I opened my mouth to speak she rammed the stock into my face with a savagery born of incandescent fury.
49
Temple was still clinging to consciousness so he had seen the entire bloody sequence. He hadn’t expected Wallis to appear and blamed himself for not making sure she was out of action.
The drug she’d shot into him was swamping his senses and he was losing the battle to stay awake. His limbs were heavy and unresponsive. The kick to the back of the head hadn’t helped so he was having to contend with a throbbing pain on top of everything else.
He was lying only feet away from Keaton and Roth. He didn’t know if the American was alive or dead – he couldn’t see his face. That last blow to his face had been ferocious and Temple had heard the crack of bone. But Damien Roth, damn him, still hadn’t taken his last breath. A tearful Wallis was on her knees cradling his head in her lap. She had removed his mask and he was trying to speak to her.
It was all so surreal. There was so much blood that the room resembled a slaughterhouse. The Keaton kids were crying and Temple pitied them and their mother because all hope of saving them was now gone.
