L.A. Detwiler - The One Who Got Away

But when I get to the corridor, I’m disoriented. It’s been too long. Where am I? Where is my room? What room am I in? I look to the left. There are a few rooms that way. I look to the right. There’s a long corridor around the corner. Where do I go? I don’t know. I take a breath, going right. I walk looking in rooms, peering at numbers. What number do I need? How don’t I know? I don’t understand.

‘This way, Adeline,’ a voice barks. I look to see the harsh woman from this morning ushering me down the hallway. Is she still here? What a long day for her.

I nod, following her to my room, relieved she was there despite her glower and her angry mutterings about imbecilic residents. I ignore her icy, squeezing fingers on my arm that dig into my flesh as she yanks me forward. I was going the right way, I realise. This soothes me. Still, when I get to the room, my fingers trace the numbers again. I need to lock them into my mind. 316. I live in 316.

She doesn’t offer to help me change out of my clothes, instead shoving me into bed with a quick movement that jars me.

‘Don’t be wandering, you hear? We have enough to do without chasing down lost rubbish,’ she spits at me. I blink, staring up at the woman, feeling so powerless. Once she’s gone, I exhale out the day’s stresses, trying to think about all that’s happened. My eyes are heavy with exhaustion, and I know I’ll soon be asleep – even with Rose’s gurgling. Still, I know there’s something I must do.

My mind is wavering, whether I like it or not. But I must stay sharp. I need to stay with it. If the knitting lady is right and this place isn’t as safe as it seems, I need to be careful not to slip up. I lean over to the stand beside my bed and yank on the lamp cord. I slowly pull open the drawer and find a Bible and a notebook. I pluck a sheet of paper from the pad, locate the pen in the drawer, and lean onto the hard surface of the stand to jot down notes.

316: my room.

Knitting lady … Dorothy? Deborah?

Code to the stairwell?

I look at the list of reminders to myself. Not very impressive, but I haven’t been here long. At least this will help me keep track of information. Maybe it will nudge me tomorrow to remember what I need to find out. I need to keep my wits about me. That’s the one thing I’m certain of.

I tuck the paper in the back of the Bible, out of sight. I don’t need Claire or the home discounting me as mad. I don’t need them having more ammunition to write me off as nothing more than a disintegrating pile of flesh. I tug on the lamp cord, settle back into bed, and close my eyes. Rose’s gurgles continue to rattle in the background, but I’m so exhausted, it doesn’t matter. Drowsiness settles in, and I almost forget about everything that happened the night before.

But a while after I fall asleep, with the blackness of the night enveloping me, I hear something that sends pure terror through me. It’s a startling sound I just can’t ignore.

Second Body Discovered in West Green; Citizens on High Alert as Threat Spreads

West Green, Crawley, West Sussex

28 June 1959

Citizens of West Green are on high alert as a second body this month has been uncovered in Ifield Pond Saturday morning, 27 June 1959, after a thorough investigation.

The body of Mrs Helen Deeley was found in Ifield Pond after a shoe was discovered by a Crawley resident at the edge of the water. Questioning of Mr John Deeley led investigators to believe that the shoe belonged to the missing Helen Deeley, and a search ensued. The body of the deceased was removed from the pond, and detectives are still conducting a search for more evidence in this case.

Mrs Deeley was not at their residence when Mr John Deeley returned home from work on 22 June, which was unusual for the housewife. When Mrs Deeley failed to return by the next morning, an extensive search ensued in West Green, but there was no sign of the woman.

Mrs Helen Deeley’s death comes only a couple of weeks after the body of Elizabeth McKinley was discovered in a skip in West Green. With two murders in less than a month, residents of the typically peaceful neighbourhood are on high alert. The West Sussex Constabulary will not offer speculation as to whether the two murders are related despite the unarguable similarities regarding the bite marks on the bodies.

However, Mr Deeley was questioned in his wife’s disappearance after detectives exposed that he was involved in an extramarital affair. The West Sussex Constabulary notes that John Deeley is considered a prime suspect in his wife’s murder. Constables and detectives on the case offered no comment at this time, but sources have told reporters that dental records of Mr Deeley are being compared to the bite marks on both victims.

Despite the rise in violence in recent weeks, residents of the town are no stranger to horrific crimes. Many have expressed concern that this may be the work of a copycat of John Haigh, the Acid Bath Murderer. Haigh was executed on 10 August 1949 after being convicted of six terrifying murders. Haigh was notorious for his use of concentrated sulphuric acid to dispose of the bodies of his victims.

‘We are shocked and scared. Who would do something like this to a woman as sweet as Helen?’ Mrs Christopher Eades noted. ‘Helen was always such a giving woman. Always volunteering and active in the church. I just don’t understand.’

Detectives are still investigating the area at Ifield to search for any other clues. The person who discovered the shoe that led to the uncovering of Helen Deeley’s body remains anonymous but is being thoroughly questioned at this time.

Women are delicate and weak creatures who are delicious to prey upon. But they aren’t imbecilic, not by a longshot. And a woman always has a way of knowing when something is terribly wrong with the one she climbs into bed with. At least that is what I’ve come to believe.

Helen Deeley was no exception. Sweet and godly like the newspaper article says. She didn’t deserve to be cheated on by her scoundrel of a husband. And she knew it.

They always know it, subconsciously at least.

Mr Deeley deserves to die for his disgusting behaviour. But I won’t deviate from my plan. I won’t abandon the list. I will stay focused because I’m in the middle of it now. I’ve selected my chosen ones. Everyone else would just be a distraction. I can’t afford to be distracted.

Besides, I can’t be too livid with the bloke because his digressions left the perfect opening. When a woman is riddled with doubt, she’ll do anything to get to the bottom of it and set her perfect view of her life right again.

A letter strategically sent. A meeting place when John was going to be ‘late at work’. The perfect, secluded spot at Ifield – and an easy place to rid the world of the evidence. After I made my mark, of course. And after I’d planted the shoe. After all, it wouldn’t be any fun if she was never found, and those moronic bobbies are so incapable. The newspaper uses words like investigation and thorough , but I know the truth. They’ll never figure it out. They’re too easily distracted, so very easily thrown off the case. Bloody hell, I had to lead them to the body. Yet they think they’ll catch me? They have no idea. Wrapped up in dental records of the husband, the affair, of course, not painting him in a good light. They’ll be focused on him for so long that they’ll forget there is even another possibility.

I shake my head, smiling at their idiocy. It’s made the game easier, certainly. But sometimes I think it would all be so much more fun if they were actually smart – if it were actually challenging. What it must be like to kill in a place with real risk of being discovered …