Deep dark secrets, p.36
Deep Dark Secrets, page 36
‘This is bad. I can’t believe you fucking killed her.’
There was more wailing from Jenna. ‘What are we going to do, Luke? I can’t go to jail, I can’t. I have my whole life ahead of me.’
‘So did Sarah, but you’ve taken her life from her, haven’t you?’
‘Please help me.’ She grabbed at the front of his T-shirt. ‘Please, it was an accident. You have to believe me.’
‘Why should I help you? You did this. It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Why are you here, Luke?’ Tommy questioned. ‘What were you doing in the basement with Sarah?’
Luke looked across at him. Tommy’s tone was accusatory and had Jenna looking up. She had been so preoccupied with finding Sarah, convinced she was responsible for killing her, she hadn’t stopped to consider why Luke might be there. Now she did and her eyes hardened slightly.
‘You were seeing her, weren’t you? I knew I was right.’
He had to think quickly if he wanted to get out of this mess. Right now, Jenna’s anger that he might have been seeing Sarah behind her back was the least of his problems.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a bastard.’
‘And you’re a killer. You murdered the girl I was in love with.’
The jab hit and brought with it a fresh bout of tears.
‘We need to call the police,’ Tommy mumbled, pulling out his cell phone.
‘But what are we going to tell them? It was an accident, Tommy. What if they don’t believe us though?’
Tommy hesitated and looked at Jenna. ‘We don’t have a choice.’
‘But I can’t go to jail. I can’t.’ Jenna looked tearfully at Luke again. ‘What am I going to do? You have to help me, Luke.’
‘How am I supposed to help you, Jenna? Are you asking me to help you get rid of the body?’
He floated the question out there, left it a moment, watching as the idea registered with both Jenna and Tommy.
‘We can’t do that,’ Tommy shook his head, his tone suggesting he was appalled by the idea. ‘We have to turn ourselves in.’
As Luke suspected, Jenna was immediately on board. ‘She’s already dead, Tommy. It was an accident and I don’t see why we should go to jail.’ She looked at Luke, her eyes pleading. ‘Would you help us?’
‘Why should I help you? You killed her. I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Luke, please. I know we’re no longer together, but you loved me once. Please don’t let me go to jail. You have to help me. Please, I’m begging you.’
They had buried Sarah in the backyard where the new conservatory was to be erected, knowing the earth had been freshly dug over and that the concrete floor would shortly be laid.
It had taken a while to convince Tommy. Luke knew he had a crush on Jenna and played on this knowledge, while Jenna did her part, pleading and begging with him, until eventually Tommy had agreed.
It would have been easier if it had been the three of them, but Clarke Golding was upstairs. Luke knew he was unpredictable, could be a liability. He persuaded Jenna to try to keep him occupied. She seemed happy with the idea, not wanting to get her hands dirty, but then Clarke appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘Why are you and Tommy taking so long?’ he had accused. ‘I have the next game ready.’
‘I’m coming. Tommy’s a little busy.’ Luke had listened as Jenna had tried to usher him up the stairs, but Clarke had pushed past her.
‘What are you doing, Tommy?’ His face crumpled when he spotted Sarah’s limp body. ‘Sarah? What have you done to Sarah?’
‘It was an accident, Clarke.’ Tommy had tried to reason with him, his face pale and his eyes looking unconvinced by his own lie.
‘Is she dead? Sarah can’t be dead.’
Clarke rushed to the foot of the stairs, dropping to his feet and sobbing over Sarah’s body.
Luke scowled at Jenna as she joined them. ‘You’d better sort this out. Calm him down.’
It took much persuasion, but eventually Jenna managed to get Clarke out of the way. Luke didn’t trust he wouldn’t talk though and pulled him to one side after the body was in the ground and Jenna and Tommy were scrubbing up the blood. He had to be sure he had Clarke’s silence.
‘You can’t ever tell anyone what happened here tonight.’
‘But what about Sarah?’
‘If anyone asks, she left the island and has gone back to the mainland.’
They had cleared her room, piling her belongings into her suitcase, switching off her cell phone, burying everything in the ground beside her. She was due to finish working at the guesthouse as soon as Bella Golding was out of the hospital and had been looking for another job. It should be easy to convince people she had just left.
‘But she hasn’t. She’s still here. People are going to find out.’
‘They won’t if we don’t tell them.’
‘But…’
‘And I need you to promise me, Clarke, that you won’t ever tell anyone, because if I ever find out you breathed a word I am going to have to come back here and hurt you, do you understand? You saw how we made Sarah disappear. There’s plenty more room down there in the dark next to her. You ever tell a soul and I will make you disappear too. No-one will ever know what happened to you. You and Sarah in a dark hole together in the ground.’
He saw Clarke’s bottom lip wobble.
‘Promise me, Clarke.’ When the boy wavered, Luke pulled out his knife, flicked the blade and jabbed it against his chin. ‘Promise me. Unless of course you want me to put you in the ground now. That will be easier. If I kill you and make you disappear now, I won’t have to worry about you telling anyone what happened.’
‘No, please. I won’t tell anyone I promise. Please don’t hurt me.’
‘No second chances. If I find out you’ve talked, I will come back and kill you.’
‘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 premeditated kill seventeen months after putting Sarah in the ground. Her name was Amber, and she was a perky blonde he had followed from a bar. He liked the blonde 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. Then 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 blonde 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 realised 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. The boat offered an ideal place to be alone with his victims and he spent time adapting the cabin, ensuring that 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 when Bella Golding died though. 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 the weak link 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, needing to 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 would 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 when 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 and 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 that he had broken his neck and 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 managed to gather 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 realised his own life 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. He needed to put on a show of normality, while he decided what the hell he was going to do about Stacey.
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 going to kill her, right? Same as you killed me?’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
‘If you don’t kill her, she will tell. You know you have to do it.’
Nell gave Luke a wary look and clutched the journal tighter. He felt himself slip a little further over the edge, the line blurring between reality and insanity, knowing he needed that book, that he had 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, and poked his finger against it, grimacing at the stabbing pain, using it to draw himself back from the edge, relieved when Stacey disappeared. She wasn’t gone forever though. 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, and followed him up to the guesthouse, consumed by rage, scared he was cosying up to the one woman who could end up destroying their lives. 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 and 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, 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. Nell O’Connor had to die.
43
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, and quickly took another couple of steps back. He didn’t lower the gun.
‘Cuff your wrists together.’
