Alex Barclay - Killing Ways

Janine was staring ahead, jaw clenched, rock solid, no reaction.

Go ahead, Rawlins, underestimate her, see what happens.

‘Let the women go,’ said Everett. ‘Show some mercy.’

Duke looked at him. ‘Mercy? There was no mercy for me! My whole life.’ He reached out his arm. ‘No mercy for me, and that makes me? Merciless. Mercy. Less.’

‘You don’t need to—’

‘Just shut the fuck up or I’ll kill both these women. I like doing that, remember? Why would I let the females go? They’re what I love to do.

‘You!’ he said, stabbing the gun into Janine’s ribs. ‘You take all these phones apart, you take out the SIM cards, batteries, everything. I’m watching you — don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to keep yours, Ren Bryce, so your savior can come get you. Text him,’ he said, handing her the phone, ‘write very simply in your regular way — nothing fancy, nothing weird — to come to Safe Streets. Then show me.’

Ren wrote: Come to Safe Streets.

She handed it to Duke.

‘Add something else,’ said Duke. ‘You really think that’s enough? You dumb bitch. Write: “important development”.’

She did as he asked. He hit Send.

‘I’ll wait as long as that takes,’ he said. ‘Of course, he might be more anxious to respond this time round, seeing that he fucked up with his wife. Or maybe he won’t show at all... seeing that he fucked up with his wife.’

Janine did as Rawlins asked, dismantling the phones, filling the box with their parts.

‘Thank you kindly,’ said Duke. ‘See, I can do things kindly. I can. How many women have you raped and murdered? ’ he said, mimicking a whining female voice. ‘Answer: I have lost track.’ He ran his forearm under his nose, wiped away sweat. ‘ Why have you lost track? Why? How could that possibly be? ’ He raised his arm and looked around the room. ‘I have lost track in the same way I lost track of...’

Ren looked at him. I know what you’re thinking: lost track of the number of times you were violated.

I need to provoke you. I need you to come for me, and let Janine go. She’ll know what to do. If you lunge, she drops, the weapons are within her reach.

‘You are no different to your mother,’ said Ren. ‘An addict who hurts other people to soothe their own pain.’

He didn’t move an inch. ‘That’s bullshit. That is bull shit.’

‘At least your mother was just addicted to disappearing into her own little screwed-up world. You’re addicted to raping and killing your way out of it. What do you think your mother went through as a child that her pain went so deep?’

‘What that bitch went through?’ said Duke, his pitch rising. ‘I don’t care, as long as it was as close to hell as it could possibly be.’

I know why. And I understand how you could think that way.

Duke was sweating.

The temperature was stifling.

Six people in a small space. No AC.

‘I took her away, Mama Rawlins,’ said Duke. He laughed. ‘Mama! Fuck. Me. I took her and I put her in a box: DANGER! KEEP OUT! There was a hole in it I made her watch through, so she could see the effect she had on me. I used to sing her Dainty’s song. Dainty never even knew I’d disappear off to where I kept Mama.’ He held out his arms. ‘I raped that hooker right in front of her face, saw her beady eyes looking out, killed her there too, burned her flesh to hide her wounds. Win-Win was her name. And I swear to God, no truer name for what I was doing. Win fucking win. Oh, Mama knew what she’d done; she knew what she’d done to me. I left that night to get rid of that buy-by-the-hour hooker corpse, and Wanda Rawlins got away. Bye-bye! I’d been doing so well. I was very angry that Kurt found her. Very angry with him. But he didn’t know who the fuck she was. He was thinking about boning that blonde. Got there first!’ He laughed.

‘Positions of trust, that’s what it’s called, right? That was what my mama was in, right? That’s what you guys are in...’

A shiver went up Ren’s spine. The profile. The obsession with positions of trust. This is his red-hot danger zone.

‘Where was the trust in my life?’ said Duke. ‘Who could I trust if I couldn’t trust my own mama?’

He turned to Gary. ‘I see you, “supervising” all this, making streets safe, I see all of you, and I’m thinking “When was I ever safe?”’ He raised his gun. ‘Where were the safe streets for me to walk?’ He laughed. ‘You’re not safe. You are not safe.’

He fired twice. The first bullet hit Robbie, a clean shot to the head. The second hit Everett. Ren could see his hair lift into the air, then blood spraying, then he was slumped behind Robbie.

Robbie’s lifeless eyes stared ahead. The side of his head was destroyed.

Next in line, spattered with his colleagues’ blood, staring down a barrel, was Gary Dettling.

No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Robbie, Everett... no, no, no, no, no. That’s not how it works! You give chances! You give people chances. You... wait. You fucking wait. You let us save people! You fucking psycho! You fucking psychopath.

No. No. No. No. No. NO.

Agent down. Agent down. Agent down. Agents down. Agents down.

Janine was ghostly, her lip quivering, her body limp, but her eyes were set, dark, glued to the opposite wall.

Duke was now pointing the gun at Gary, staring him down. Gary was staring right back, unmoving, waiting, calm, accepting.

‘I thought you were merciless!’ said Ren, drawing Duke on herself.

Gary has a wife. Gary has a daughter.

‘You just shot two men,’ said Ren. ‘Dead in an instant, no suffering. Don’t you want people to suffer? Where’s the suffering in an instant death?’

Duke blinked. Seconds passed.

He lowered the gun a fraction, moved it to the right, fired, ripping a chunk from Gary’s left triceps. The blood spattered up against Ren’s right side; she could feel the warm spray on her face.

Jesus Christ.

Gary cried out in pain, only briefly, then buried it.

Ren’s fingers shook as she wiped Gary’s blood from her face.

I’m next. Jesus Christ. No. Don’t. Please don’t. Don’t.

Duke, instead, had pulled Janine back tight against him, and his gun was pressed into her ribs.

Oh, no. No.

Ren was immediately seeing row after row of crime scene photos and everyone was dead, and this time they had the faces of her friends.

No! No! No!

Imagine an abandoned Safe Streets...

Jesus Christ. What hell are we in? Stop. Stop. Stop.

Think. Think. Think.

Think. Think. Think.

Get out of this room. We need to get out of this room.

Duke Rawlins’ nickname as a child was Pukey Dukey. It tormented him. That’s what Shaun Lucchesi said. Throw up. It will rattle him.

‘Please!’ said Ren. ‘Please can we move into another room? I can’t... I... don’t feel well. The smell of... everything... I think I’m going to be—’

‘You shut the fuck up,’ said Duke. ‘Just shut the fuck up.’

‘I’m going to be—’

‘—raped in front of your boss is what you’re going to be.’

Ren fell to her knees in front of Duke, and threw up, splashing his boots. Silver spots danced in front of her eyes.

Ugh.

‘You fucking disgusting piece of shit,’ said Duke. He jumped out of the way, staggered back, kicking out, catching her in the jaw. Ren cried out, fell onto her side, curled into a ball.

‘Get the fuck up,’ he said.

She stood up, slowly.