Michael Fowler - Heart of the Demon

“And so you keep saying” she responded, “But you’re not convincing me.”

Hunter watched Billy’s face beginning to flush across the desk. Grace had pressed Billy hard to the extent that sweat was now staining the front of his T-shirt.

“All right, all right, I might well have not been straight with you but I thought you were just trying to pull a fast one on me with that Rebecca Morris business.”

“Believe me Billy we do not lie about murder. Especially of a fourteen year old girl.” Grace said calmly leaning across setting her stare upon him.

“I thought the phone was nicked that’s why I’ve not exactly been straight okay. But I really did find that phone.”

“Tell us where then, and stop messing us about or you’re back in that cell and on remand,” Grace snapped back.

Billy dropped his head into his hands, but only for a second. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and pushed himself back in his seat. “It was partially buried in the woods over by the canal — honest, you’ve got to believe me. I walk Spike and Sabre there every morning. I go over the canal bridge near the Low Lock and then let them loose in the woods. A couple of days ago they were digging round a hole just above a dyke and when I shouted to them they wouldn’t come away. I thought they’d found a badger set or a foxhole with cubs in so I went to drag them away. When I got to them they’d dug out a black bin liner and started to shred it. Inside it there was some clothing, a backpack and that mobile phone. I thought it was gear from a burglary that someone had buried to come back for later. The bag was only filled with what looked like schoolbooks and so I just took the mobile. It was the only thing worth anything.”

Grace turned her gaze away from Billy and looked towards Hunter.

If he was to be believed then this meant that the investigation was taking another twist.

Hunter had been carefully watching Billy throughout the last half hour of the questioning, studying every aspect of his body language. Looking for those tell-tale signs that spelt guilt. To put a finger on what those signs were was never easy and certainly not something Hunter could define. It was built on years of experience, gained with every arrest and interview. And he’d also learned from others — others like Barry Newstead. He had heard his colleagues refer to it as a sixth sense. Whatever it was he knew he had it. As he had observed Billy he had noticed that the man had always held Grace’s stare. He had never shifted nervously, or gulped when he had responded to her probing questions. Hunter somehow sensed that on this occasion Billy was telling the truth.

Hunter said. “Billy it’s getting late now, we’re going to terminate this interview, lodge you in the cells overnight and then tomorrow go and see if you’re telling us the truth. First thing in the morning, I want you to show us where you found the mobile.”

DAY TWENTY-SIX: 1st August.

As soon as he had made contact with Kirsty over the Internet and hooked her with ‘Josh’ he had begun the same process as he had done with all the others. For over three weeks he had been following, watching and hiding from her, learning her life. And he had collected hundreds of photographs along the way. He had placed the digital images in an album and brought them out nightly from their hiding place to run his hands over her pretty face, imagining he was touching that smooth unblemished skin.

Two days ago, after all his hard work, he had pulled it off. He had finally managed to entice Kirsty into meeting his seventeen year old creation, and as he stood very still beside the bushes of The Barnwell Countryside park he knew that very soon he would be meeting and physically touching the girl who had so far only been a two dimensional vision in his fantasies.

He took another glance at his watch and scanned the area around him. There had been a couple of dog walkers earlier but he knew from previous visits to this location that around this time the majority of people who used it would be at work. It was the perfect meeting place. He knew as soon as he had suggested the venue to Kirsty that it would lure her into a false sense of security. She didn’t know the area as well as he did. He had done his homework.

He had made attempts to disguise his appearance, to make himself look old enough to be the father of a seventeen year old. He had waxed down his hair, put on a pair of unfashionable spectacles from a charity shop and had donned his father’s old pit duffel jacket, which had been left behind all those years back. When he had looked himself over in the mirror before leaving home he had thought he had got the effect about right. After all he didn’t want to scare her off because he looked weird. And he had rehearsed his lines so many times.

Spotting movement by the stile, which he had under surveillance, he caught his breath. When he had done an earlier recce of the park he had identified it as being the entranceway nearest to the woodland.

He squinted at the moving figure, bringing it into focus. He could tell by the outline it was her. He double-checked that the area was clear, slipped on his gloves and slid out of from the bushes.

* * * * *

“Hi I’m Josh’s Dad.”

The man had suddenly appeared from nowhere and had made Kirsty jump.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Josh was delayed at his football training and he asked me if I’d come and meet you and run you back to the house.”

Kirsty’s mind was racing. She hadn’t expected Josh’s Dad to turn up. She looked him up and down. He looked silly in that coat — it was too big for him. Although a good eighteen inches taller than her she could tell he was only slightly built. There were signs that his hair was thinning despite covering it with a layer of wax and he had the kind of facial growth that looks like a perpetual five o’clock shadow. The heavy rimmed glasses hid his eyes, but she did notice they seemed to be darting around, not really focussed on her.

In that instant she thought his face was familiar, and yet somehow different. It puzzled her.

“You okay with that?” He asked.

Now where had she had heard that voice before. She hesitated for a second, trying to remember where she had seen this man.

“Well I’m not too sure,” she replied.

Then the man pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. “You can give him a ring if you want.” He slid the screen up to reveal the keypad, and edging closer proffered it to her.

This didn’t feel right one bit Kirsty thought to herself.

“I’ll just ring my mum and tell her what’s happening.” She could feel her voice burbling nervously, the words almost sticking in her throat. She reached into her own pocket for her phone, but the man took hold of her arm gently.

“Josh will be so sad if he doesn’t meet you. I can assure you everything’s fine, you’ve no need to worry.”

She tried to act normally and not to freeze. She knew what she should do — what her parents had always told her to do, but her legs wouldn’t let her. A panicky fear enveloped her.

Then the man turned sharply. Kirsty saw his eyes in those too big spectacles widen revealing a look of real evil and she opened her mouth to scream.

He swung back his hand and she felt the sharp slap on her cheek, which rocked her head sideways. It was less painful than expected; the terror inside was more frightening. She choked back her scream as he grabbed at her jacket.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you fucking scream.”

His voice had taken on a deep and menacing tone and she could feel his breath hot on her face, and it smelt stale.

“You’re coming with me and if you fucking struggle I’ll kill you right here and now.”