Chris Carter - The Night Stalker

‘And this hidden space in the attic was Andrew’s secret place?’ Rhonda asked.

‘That’s right.’

‘But you just said no one could get to it,’ she challenged.

‘Not through the house,’ Ricky clarified. ‘Andrew used to climb up the trellis on the outside wall and get in through this tiny round window on the roof.’

‘The roof?’

‘Yes. He was good at it too. He could climb that wall like a real-life Spiderman.’

‘So what was so strange about his secret attic place?’ Rhonda asked.

‘It was directly above his parents’ bedroom. He said that when they were in the room, he could hear everything.’

‘Oh my God.’ Rhonda pulled a face. ‘You think he used to listen to them while they were doing it?’

‘More than that. You remember his house, right?’

She nodded.

He turned towards Hunter. ‘It was an old-style wooden house, with high ceilings. Andrew had scraped away at the gaps between some of the wooden planks in the attic’s floor, at different locations. I know because he showed them to me. Through them he could see the entire bedroom. He used to spy on his parents.’

‘No way,’ Rhonda said with wide eyes. ‘That’s just nasty. What a pervert.’ She cringed.

‘But what freaked me out about the place,’ Ricky continued, ‘was that in this little corner I saw a few cotton balls and rags stained with blood.’

‘Blood?’ Hunter asked.

‘Blood?’ Rhonda repeated.

Ricky nodded. ‘I asked him about it. He told me it was from a nosebleed.’

Hunter frowned.

‘When Andrew was younger he’d got really ill with flu, and that somehow messed up the inside of his nose. I know that’s true because it happened in school a few times. If he started sneezing or if he just blew his nose a little too hard, blood would go everywhere.’

Hunter sensed Ricky’s uneasiness. ‘But you didn’t believe the bloody cotton balls and rags came from his nosebleed, did you?’

Ricky looked at his sister and then at the paper clip he’d been fidgeting with. It was all bent and out of shape. He lifted it up and showed it to Hunter. ‘I saw some of these on the floor next to the cotton balls. They also had blood on them. Maybe he was picking at his nose with paper clips, who knows? As I said, he was stranger than most. I didn’t know what was going on, but the whole place felt creepy. I told Andrew that I had to go home and got out of there as quick as I could.’

Hunter knew why the bloody cotton balls, rags and paper clips – Andrew was self-harming. He was substituting pain for pain, trying to take hold of his suffering. He couldn’t control the emotional pain he went through every time his parents argued, so, to disconnect from that hurt, he created his own, by inflicting his own wounds. That way he could calmly watch himself bleed, detached from his own suffering and his underlying rage. It was a pain he could completely control, down to how deep the cut was, and how much he’d bleed.

Ricky paused and rubbed his face with both hands.

‘Look, I know Andrew was a little weird, but most 10-year-old kids are in one way or another.’ His eyes moved to Rhonda. ‘Some of us still are.’

She flipped him her middle finger.

‘But he was a nice kid,’ Ricky continued. ‘And if you ask me, I think that what his father did was a very cowardly act. Andrew never had a chance. He didn’t deserve to die.’

Everyone went silent.

To Hunter, all the pieces were starting to fall into place.

The room he was in was illuminated only by candles – twelve in total. Their flames flickered in an unsynchronized dance, bouncing shadows against the walls. He raised his eyes towards his naked body reflected in the large wall mirror. Bare feet on a cold cement floor, strong legs, broad shoulders, athletic body and icy cold eyes. He stared at his face for a long while, analyzing it carefully before twisting his body left, then right, checking his back.

He walked over to the table on the corner and picked up one of the many pre-paid cell phones on it, dialing a number he knew by heart.

It rang twice before it was answered by a calm but firm voice.

‘Do you have the information I asked you for?’ he asked, his eyes moving to the workstation in front of him.

‘Yes, it wasn’t a problem.’

He listened carefully.

The information was more surprising than upsetting, but his face displayed no signs of anxiety. He disconnected and ran his right hand over the large blood-coated needle and thread he’d left on the workstation.

He’d have to change his course of action, adapt, and he didn’t like change. Deviating from well-laid plans meant increasing his risk, but right now, he wasn’t sure it mattered any more.

He checked his watch. He knew exactly where she’d be in a few hours’ time. The information had been so easy to come by it made him laugh.

He faced the mirror once again and stared deep into his own eyes.

It was time to do it again.

‘Shit!’

She checked her car’s clock and cursed under her breath as she turned into her street in Toluca Lake, southeastern San Fernando Valley. She had no doubt she’d be late, and she hated being late.

The gala charity fundraising event was scheduled to start in seventy-five minutes’ time. The drive from her house alone would take her at least half an hour. That gave her around forty-five minutes to have a shower, do her hair and make-up and get dressed. For a woman who took as much pride in her appearance as she did, that was almost impossible.

Her secretary had reminded her in plenty of time, as she’d asked her to, but an accident on Hollywood Freeway cost her an extra thirty-five minutes, and in an event where the Mayor of Los Angeles, the Governor of California and quite a few A-list celebrities were supposed to be attending, being late wasn’t the best plan of action.

To save time, she decided that she’d have her hair up and tied back. She also had a pretty good idea of which dress and shoes she’d be wearing.

Her home was a large, two-story, cul-de-sac house by Toluca Lake itself. She knew the house was way too big for her alone, but she had fallen in love with it when she was first property searching.

She parked her Dodge Challenger on her paved driveway and her eyes involuntarily checked the dashboard clock again.

‘Shit, shit.’

She’d been so concerned with the time and being late that she didn’t even notice the white van parked on the street, almost directly in front of her house.

She stepped out of her car and fumbled inside her handbag for the key while walking to her front door. As she got to the porch, she heard a ruffling noise coming from the trimmed shrubs of her small front yard. She paused and frowned. A few seconds later the noise returned. It sounded like some sort of scratching.

‘Oh, please don’t tell me I’ve got rats,’ she whispered to herself.

Suddenly she heard a sniffing cry and a tiny white puppy stuck its head through the bushes. It looked frightened and hungry.

‘Oh my God.’ She crouched down, put her handbag on the floor and extended a hand. ‘Come here, little one. Don’t be scared.’ The puppy stepped further out of the bushes, sniffing at her hand.

‘Oh, you poor thing. I bet you’re hungry.’ She patted its head, running a hand up and down its white fur. It was shivering. ‘Would you like some milk?’

She did not hear him walk up behind her. In her crouched position it was easy for him to dominate her. His strong hands pushed her forward into the bushes where the white puppy had come from, while at the same time pressing a wet cloth over her mouth. She tried to react, dropping the puppy and desperately trying to reach behind her to grab hold of her assailant. But it was too late; he knew it, and so did she.