Copyright©2015 by Matt Shaw

Matt Shaw Publications

The moral right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

M A T T    S H A W‘S

THE

FARM

Part One

ENGLAND, KENT.

Today.

- Chapter One -

Sophie looked towards the entrance to the car park as another car pulled in. A hope that it would be her husband’s Silver Hyundai i30. A hope squashed when a blue (and battered) Datsun drove by, an elderly man sitting behind the wheel.

Where the Hell was he?

It had been Sam’s choice to meet up for an impromptu date night - a meal in their favourite restaurant followed by a film at the cinema - so Sophie figured the least he could do was show up on time!

Another car pulled into the car park. A red Ford Focus. A young woman behind the wheel. One hand steering, the other looking at her mobile. Sophie tutted and shook her head, not that the driver noticed. Nor did the driver notice the young lad crossing the road - at least, not early enough to avoid having to slam the brakes on. The young woman - panicked - dropped the phone and put two hands on the steering wheel as the lad mouthed some abuse at her. Both shaken, both survived.

Sophie’s attention turned back to the main road and the entrance of the car park. So many cars passing by - no doubt the last of the commuters on their way home from a hard day at the office. Standing out in the cold, waiting for Sam, Sophie couldn’t help but wish she was at home now too. At least it was warm there. Admittedly she could have gone into the restaurant to wait - a nice little steakhouse - but she didn’t fancy being one of those people sitting at the bar looking lonely and desperate.

Sam had warned her he was running late. That’s why he had told her just to get a taxi down to the restaurant. The restaurant was a stone’s throw from the cinema where Sophie had booked into the late showing of Whisper, the film adaptation of Michael Bray’s popular horror trilogy. The late show didn’t start until ten thirty and Sam had said to meet at seven so it would give them plenty of time (maybe even too much) to enjoy their meal without feeling the need to rush or skip a course for fear of missing the beginning of the film. That had been Sophie’s line of thinking anyway when she had initially booked the tickets but it was already half past seven and there was still no sign of Sam.

She told herself that she would give him another five minutes and then try his mobile. Had he not already mentioned he was running late, she would have tried him earlier - probably only five minutes after he was first meant to be there in actual fact. Contacting him after thirty-five minutes was fair enough. Even if he was stressed from his busy day, he couldn’t begrudge her calling thirty-five minutes after the meet-up time although - deep down - she was surprised he hadn’t got in touch already giving her an update. Had the shoe been on the other foot, and it had been her running late, she would have sent him a progress update via text just so he knew how much longer he was going to have to stand there looking like an idiot.

Another car. White. Ford Focus. The driver went past slowly, his eyes fixed on Sophie just as her eyes were fixed on the car. A smile on the driver’s face. The incorrect assumption she was looking at him as opposed to the car, hoping it was her husband. When Sophie realised, helped by a wink from the driver, she couldn't help but snigger to herself yet - at the same time - she turned away, embarrassed at the thought of the driver actually stopping to talk to her.

“Where are you? Where are you?” she started singing to herself, her warm breath visible as it came from her mouth and hit the cold air. She reached into the leather handbag over her shoulder. A quick ferret around and she pulled out her mobile phone. No missed calls, no text messages - nothing.

Another set of headlights turned into the car park. Dark green car. Sophie didn’t know the make. She muttered under her breath and searched for her husband’s name in the contacts. Just as she selected his name, a man bumped into her from behind causing her to drop her phone onto the concrete.

“Shit!” she watched as the phone bounced along the pavement; a horrible crack across the screen caused by the initial impact when it first hit the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” the man who’d walked into her, startling her in the process, apologised.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Sophie picked her phone up from the ground. Just as she had feared, the screen had cracked right the way across.

“Is it broken?”

She sighed, “Yes.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” she lied. She wanted to call the guy an idiot - along with some other names - but there was little point. Yes he should have been looking where he was going but what’s done was done. If she shouted at him, chances are - he’d just shout back. Maybe he’d even turn the blame on her for just standing around like a spare part? There was no way she was in the wrong - after all, she was hardly hiding out of sight on some blind bend - but people had a tendency to say anything, and get mad easily, when you pushed their buttons.

“Here… Let me pay for a new one, it’s the least I can do.”

“Honestly you don’t have to!” Sophie didn’t know why she had said that. The man had offered to pay for the damage, she should just say thank you and take the damned money, not turn it down. She didn’t have the cash to get it fixed, or replaced.

“Please - it’s the least I can do.” He pointed across the car park, “My car is just over there - if you want to come with me, I was just heading over there now to get my wallet. Left the stupid thing on the passenger seat!”

He had pointed over to the far side of the car park. There was a black car parked up by itself in the corner.

“Could you have parked any further away?” she laughed as she started to walk with him.

“Honestly, when I first got here - this whole place was rammed!” The man seemed almost embarrassed.

As they walked Sophie kept pressing the on button on her phone. The whole handset had shut down. Even if the stranger had a phone she could borrow, she couldn’t remember Sam’s mobile number off the top of her head. All these years with a mobile phone, this was the first time something like this had happened.

“I really am sorry about this,” the man said, “I feel like such an idiot.”

Sophie didn’t try to set his mind at ease by telling him it was okay. He was an idiot. It wasn’t as though she was a small person. She wouldn’t have been hard to see standing there. Exactly what had he been thinking to be able to run straight into someone standing still? At least he had offered to pay for the damage.

Sophie stopped following.

The stranger turned to her, “You okay? The car is right there.”

“Yeah I’m good.” She quickly thought on her feet, “I’m waiting for my husband - if I go over there, he might not see me. I’m happy to wait here for you though if you want to get your wallet.”

The stranger looked puzzled but nodded, “Sure.” He smiled, “You’re not worried I’m going to jump in my car and high tail it out of here?”

Sophie smiled, “No - I trust you.”

The man nodded, “Well okay then. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay then.”

Everything seemed too convenient and it wasn’t sitting well with Sophie. The man bumped into her, broke her phone and then tried lulling her into the dark corner of a car park on the promise of paying for the damage he’d caused. These phones weren’t cheap. Did he really have that kind of cash in his wallet? The higher end of three digits. The whole situation seemed off - from him walking into her, pretending not to notice her, to trying to get her to follow him into a quiet area. She’d seen too many horror films, read too many books, to go through with it - even with the promise of money.

She took her eyes off the stranger for a moment and glanced back towards the entrance to the car park. Now would be a really good time for Sam to show up.

“Good job I got that bonus this month!” the stranger called out.

Sophie glanced back over to the stranger. He was already at his car, leaning in - his face out of sight. He suddenly stood up straight - a black leather wallet in his hands.

“Got it!” He closed the car up and hurried back over to Sophie - locking the car with the key fob as he did so. “You okay to wait here a moment? I just need to run to the cash point,” he pointed behind Sophie. She followed his pointed finger with her gaze. A cash point in the wall of the restaurant.

Sophie nodded, “I’ll wait here,” she said.

At least that explained the money. He didn’t have it on him, but he could get it from the nearby hole in the wall. As the man hurried to the cash point, Sophie laughed at how paranoid her love of horror had made her.

Another set of headlight’s lit up the car park. Still not Sam.

- Chapter Two -

“For fuck sake!” Sam slammed on the brakes again skidding his car to a halt just before the sudden red light that was forcing him to stop. The momentum of the car speeding forward, and then suddenly stopping, threw his mobile from the passenger seat down into the footwell where it could stay. He’d used the phone so often during the day that it had run out of battery more than forty minutes ago, much to his frustration.

Sam and Sophie had met at York University, near on eighteen years ago now. They had recently celebrated their ten year anniversary with a second honeymoon trip to Montreal and San Francisco and were both still very much in love. At least that’s what he kept telling himself - she’ll forgive you for being late because she loves you.

The lights turned to green. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and wheel-spun off the line, beating the boy racer who’d lined up next to him much to the young lad’s embarrassment. All that money spent upgrading his car and he still couldn’t beat an i30. “Can’t buy skills,” Sam laughed; a brief moment of lightheartedness in what had been the day from Hell.

Still - nearly there now, just a few more corners to turn.

Sam felt like a douche. It had been his idea to have the impromptu evening out with his wife - something nice for a long week before a weekend of watching crappy films on the television and general resting. Had he known his day was going to progressively get worse, he would have never suggested it. As it was - he asked her out in the morning, starting panicking about timings around midday and then called her just after five saying he would meet her there instead of swinging home to have a quick wash, change and collect her.

Left hand turn. Another red light. “Fuck you.”

She’d be okay. Admittedly she might be mad to start off with but - by the time the starters got to the table - she’d be okay. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. The last thing he needed was the day from Hell ending with Sophie sulking at him.

Green light. Go!

Right hand turn, a quick straight and then left into the car park.

Turning into the car park Sam slowly drove past the line-up of restaurants and shops that faced the spaces for the cars, hoping to pick Sophie’s face out from the people milling around. He didn’t see her on the first pass so quickly headed to the nearby empty spaces to abandon his car. With any luck, he thought, she’d have noticed his car and started to walk over to where he was parking. Or, at the very least, she’d give him a wave when he climbed out and started walking over.

He straightened the car up in a space between two others and turned the engine off, pulling the key from the ignition. Fifty-three minutes late. Not ideal but - given the day he’d had - it could have been worse. Probably not worth saying that to Sophie, not if he valued his life. He climbed from the car and shut the door behind him whilst looking out for Sophie.

A lady and a man, dressed for a posh evening meal, walking arm in arm - smiling and laughing.

A group of lads, ripped jeans and baggy tee-shirts, crossing the road towards the cinema - typical teenagers looking mean and moody. Or trying to at least. They just look like idiots.

A handful of women coming from the restaurant, chatting amongst themselves. An early dinner between work colleagues?

A couple of cars coming and going.

No sign of Sophie though. Light drizzle trickled down on the area from one of the many grey clouds blocking the sky from view. She was probably hiding out in the restaurant to keep dry.

Sam pushed the door open and stepped in - immediately greeted by a friendly female host.

“Evening.”

“Hi.”

“Table for one?”

“Meeting my wife here - she should already be inside. Can I go through?”

“What was the name?”

“Hall.”

Sam watched impatiently as the woman checked the bookings in front of her.

“I’m sorry but no one came. We released the table.”

“You released the table? We were meeting at seven.”

“I’m afraid it’s our policy when people don’t show up for their table.”

“We were meeting at seven. She has to be here.” He sighed, “Do you have a bar area that she might be sitting at?”

“I’ll just double check for you if you’d like to wait here.”

The host walked through the next set of double doors into the main restaurant leaving Sam waiting, frustrated. It would have been easier for the lady to let him go in and have a look. It’s not as though the woman even knows what Sam looks like!

The doors opened and the woman came back out, shaking her head.

“I’m afraid there’s no one there.”

“And you released our table? There’s another couple sitting there now, is there?”

“A family of four.”

“Shit.” He paused a moment, “Well did anyone coming in asking for me?”

The host shook her head again, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Sam knew he was in trouble. If Sophie wasn’t standing outside and hadn’t gone through to the main restaurant, there was nowhere else she was likely to be. All he could think was that she had got impatient and gone home. But why would she do that without calling him first?

“May I use your phone at least?” he asked, knowing that his own phone was dead.

The host shook her head, “I’m sorry but…”

“Yeah it’s okay. Forget it.” He turned and walked from the restaurant letting the double doors slam behind him.

Standing outside he checked his watch. Eight o’clock. Damn, damn, damn. He checked around hoping to spot his wife. The rain was getting heavier now. There’d be no way she would be standing out here. He looked to the left; the cinema. Maybe she was standing in the foyer? Not as embarrassing as sitting at a table or bar alone and certainly drier! Pulling his collar up, not that it made any difference against the rain, Sam ran across the street towards the cinema.

Long queues at the counter; people ordering tickets and snacks for the film of their choice. A few people standing at the automated ticket collection point, struggling with getting their tickets printed properly. A couple standing over by the boards showing the various films; a list detailing the times and quick synopsis.

Sophie wasn’t there.

Bathroom perhaps?

Sam crossed the foyer towards the cinema’s bathroom. This was the only bathroom in the area she would have used, if she’d used one at all. Other bathrooms would have involved going into a restaurant to use them and there was no way she’d do that!  He waited there, hoping Sophie would suddenly come out.

Two minutes of standing around turned to five minutes. Five minutes turned to ten. A woman walked by him, heading in.

“Excuse me - I’m looking for my wife. Can you see if there’s a woman called Sophie in there?”

The stranger nodded as she entered the bathroom. She came back out shaking her head before going back in.

“Thanks anyway,” he said. She’d already gone back in.

Sam waited a moment, unsure of what to do next. Of all the times for his mobile to be dead! Frustrated, he headed over to a line of four pay-phones situated on the foyer wall next to the entrance. He picked up the receiver and dropped in his coins - unsure of when he had last used a public phone.

Ringing.

Sam couldn’t remember Sophie’s mobile number. The problem with modern technology - it’s easy to chuck a number into a device and forget about it. Gone are the days when you had to remember the numbers off by heart. After all - why memorise it when it’ll always be in your phone which - in turn - would always be in your pocket. There was a lesson here that Sam was trying to ignore as he waited for Sophie to answer the home phone; the only number he could remember.

“Come on, come on, come on… Pick up the phone…”

The answer machine kicked in. The pay phone swallowed his coin.

“Shit.”

He hung up and sighed heavily.

She didn’t appear to be here and she wasn’t at home. All he could think was that she had grown tired of waiting and was on her way home. Unable to contact him, damned dead battery, she wouldn’t have had many options other than to wait all night on the off-chance he did show up. He couldn’t blame her for leaving although he wished she hadn’t. He was late - yes - but not so late that they couldn’t have had a pleasant evening still. He’d make it up to her. Tomorrow night. He’d book a nice restaurant - a posher one than the one they’d planned for this evening - and take her out.

“Okay then,” he said to himself. In his head he’d worked out what to do; head home, hopefully catch up with Sophie there, explain what had gone wrong (she’d hopefully see the funny side) and promise a better evening for Saturday night.

Sam walked out of the cinema’s foyer and - after another quick check around for Sophie outside - he headed back to his car, unlocking it with the fob pulled from his pocket. He climbed into the vehicle, started the engine and reversed from his parking bay.

She had to be at home.

- Chapter Three -

Sam tossed his house keys onto the small ledge just above the radiator, on the left hand side of the hallway as he called out to Sophie, “Honey?” Before waiting for an answer - sensing the mood she’d be in for believing he’d stood her up - he jumped in with an apology, “I’m so, so sorry - I’ve had the day from Hell and my stupid battery died on my phone!”

He walked into the living room. With the exception of Tiggy, a small ginger and white short haired cat sitting on the sofa, it was empty. No need to panic. Sophie would be in one of the other rooms of the three bedroom semi-detached home. He kept talking.

“I think I’ve been stopped by every single traffic light too. Some I swear changed to green and then back to red way too soon just to catch me. Seemed like everyone and everything was against me!”

Kitchen was empty. Brendan - another ginger and white cat, albeit fluffier, whose full name happened to be Brendan Pillow Puff (always good to call out when he refused to come in at night ) - walked in and started meowing for his tea. Sam ignored him as he headed for the stairs. Maybe she’d gotten a drenching from the rain and was sulking in a warm bath?

“Soph?”

No reply.

“I was thinking. Tomorrow, we could go out and try that new restaurant in town? Been getting some good reviews in the papers.” He got to the top of the stairs and walked through to the bathroom. Empty.

Bedroom?

Empty.

“Honey?” He was standing on the landing - the heart of the house. If she was there (somewhere), she’d hear him and - hopefully - respond. “Sophie?”

She had to be here. Where else would she be? He walked back down the stairs and through to the living room where he grabbed the phone from its cradle. No new messages flashing for his attention. Dialling 1-4-7-1 and a local number was the most recent call; him phoning from the cinema.

“Where the hell are you?” he muttered to himself.

Cat still meowing from the kitchen. The second cat, still on the sofa, looked up curious to see if they were about to be fed. They weren’t.

Quick dial number 2 - Sophie’s number.

He pressed the quick dial and waited for the line to connect.

I’m sorry, the number you are calling is not currently available. Please try again later.

“Brilliant.” He hung the phone up and pulled his dead mobile from his jacket pocket. Taking it upstairs, he plugged it into the charger next to the bed he shared with Sophie. He took a seat on the edge of the bed as he flicked the phone on and patiently waited for it to load up. With any luck there’d be some messages from Sophie. No doubt one asking where he was. Then maybe a couple more getting progressively angrier towards him and then - finally - one saying what she was doing and where she was going.

“Come on, come on… When you’re ready…”

The Apple Logo.

The Loading bar.

The home-screen.

Phone fully loaded.

Without waiting for a message to come through, notifying him of waiting voicemail, he dialled through to hear what he hoped was there for him. The line connected and the automated female told him there were no saved messages and two new messages.

The first message played; a work thing. Something about a meeting he had lined up for next week. Sam didn’t wait to hear if it were important before skipping to the second - and final - message. Same idiot customer apologising for previous message and to just ignore it. What the Hell was that about? Sam deleted it and lowered the phone, disconnecting the line.

Sophie wasn’t at the agreed meeting point. She wasn’t here. There were no messages. Even if she were mad at Sam - and he understood there was a strong possibility of that - she’d still tell him what she was doing… He sighed heavily.

Maybe she was in a taxi and headed home and it just so happened he had beaten her there? Maybe - so the evening wasn’t a complete wash-out - she had decided to visit friends instead? Perhaps even bumping into one of them outside the restaurant? It was still unusual she hadn’t tried calling him to say what was going on but… It was entirely possible that was what had happened. Or maybe she was with her sister Louise? Best place to start; there was a strong chance she would call her if she were stranded.

Sam dialled her number on his charging mobile.

The line connected.

Louise was five years older than Sophie. Living over in the next town with her husband Ron and daughter Scarlett,  most people said there was a strong resemblance between Sophie and Louise but Sophie never saw it herself. Louise was always looking glamorous in full make-up - even when going to her job as a hospice nurse - and she frowned upon any clothes that covered her breasts. A far cry from Sophie and the vintage rockabilly look that she loved.

“Hi, Sam!” Louise sounded chirpy down the other end of the line.

His name had come up on her mobile’s screen - she wasn’t just good at guessing who was calling her.

“Hi…” He jumped straight to the point, “Has Sophie called you tonight?”

“Soph? No. Haven’t spoken to her for a few days. Why, what’s up?”

“Probably nothing. We were supposed to meet up tonight. I was running late and by the time I got there, she wasn’t there.”

“Maybe she was running late too…?” She paused a moment, “Why didn’t you call her.”

“Long story but my phone was dead. I looked around but she wasn’t there. Came home - she’s not here. Thought she might have come to you.”

“Tried calling her?”

“Of course I have. Phone line won’t connect. Just keeps telling me to try later.”

“Want me to try?”

“If you don’t mind. If you do get her, I’m at home. Can you get her to call me?”

“I’ll call you right back.”

The phone line went dead.

Sam waiting patiently for Louise to call back The longest twenty seconds or so of his life.

“Yeah - can’t get through,” Louise said.

“Shit.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Probably in a black spot.”

“Between here and there - there aren’t that many,” Sam pointed out. They lived in the city, not the country. Generally speaking they both had signal pretty much everywhere they had to travel to. Even in the countryside, on the outskirts of the town, signal was pretty good. In fact, Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had had poor service or when Sophie last complained about it.

“She’ll show up.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Listen - I’ve got dinner in the oven - I have to go. Send me a text when she shows up, yeah?”

“Of course. See you later.”

“Yep. Catch up soon.”

“Bye.”

The phone line went dead.

Sam sat there a moment unsure what to do next. She liked the company of Claire and Caroline, two girls from the same office as her, but Sam didn’t have their numbers to call to see if she was with them. Not just that, he wasn’t friends with them on Facebook so couldn’t bung them a message - not without it disappearing into the outbox where they’d most likely never be seen.

What about Mandy?

Mandy was Nick’s wife, Nick being one of Sam’s old school friends. There was a slim (very slim) chance Sophie could have gone to their place, he guessed. After all, the girls had only just survived Download together - some festival - so maybe she’d decided to go and reminisce about their time there?

Sam - now desperate - sought out Nick’s number from his contacts. He clicked the call button and waited for the line to connect.

The phone started to ring.

Sam felt stupid getting this frantic about Sophie. She was in her mid-thirties. If she had gone elsewhere because he had failed to show up, it wasn’t as though she wasn’t an adult or that she couldn’t look after herself. She was more than capable of getting from point A to point B without help from Sam. It’s just that he wished she had called him to let him know her plans.

Answering machine kicked in.

“Hi Nick, it’s Sam. I was just calling to see if Sophie had swung by yours to see Mandy? Been trying to get hold of her but her phone isn’t working. Can you let me know, please? Thanks, mate, catch up soon…”

He hung up.

Nothing else to do but wait for her to get home or call him up asking for a lift.

Part Two

America, West Virginia.

Two Years Previous.

- Chapter Four -

Lauriette Hutzler opened her eyes with a moderate amount of effort on her part. Thirty-two years old, she felt as though she were bordering on retirement age. Her head pounding from… From?

What was that?

What had happened?

More to the point – as her vision cleared - how did she get…

An old barn? A large wood-chipping vehicle in front of where she was tied. Stacks of hay to the left. Farming tools lining the right hand side of the building. A strong draught coming in from one of the many broken wooden slats around the building.

She realised she was restrained with ropes and started to struggle against them. Strong knots stopping any hint of give.

“Morning sleepyhead. Now before you say anything, I know what you’re thinking.” A voice - not a local accent. Lauriette looked from side to side, trying to see where it was coming from. The voice continued despite the owner not showing themselves, “You’re thinking I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home in Nollville Manor on Firefly Lane, the last house on the left.” He paused a moment, “Am I right?”

Lauriette didn’t answer him but, yes, he was right - whoever he was. The last time she was awake, that’s exactly where she had been. She had been at home, relaxing with her dogs Yuichi (named after a character in an episode of the anime Bleach although - now - he mostly went by the nickname Sweetie) and Tama. Yuichi was a twelve pounds Maltese cross between the age of eight to ten. He was a solid white colour and easy to identify because he was missing his left eye. Tama - the younger of the two - was slightly heavier at nineteen pounds. A purebred Shih-Tzu. He was named after a character from an anime too. Sergeant Frog to be precise.

Was she even still in Martinsburg or had he taken her somewhere out of town? Of course she was still in Martinsburg. The place used to be nice. A long time ago. Then the heroin wave had struck and robberies and prostitution went up on the rise. Since then, the place had become something of a shit-hole. She shouldn’t have been surprised that something like this could have happened.

Lauriette closed her eyes. She tried to pretend she was somewhere else. She was at home with her dogs. She had to be. She’d just dozed off in front of one of the many horror films she liked to watch. Yes, that was it. That made sense. This - where she was now - this didn’t make sense. She didn’t like going out, she certainly wouldn’t have come out here.

She didn’t have many friends to speak of - only her brother James. She had no reason to be here.

A nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her she had every reason to be here.

“But if you were at home - you wouldn’t know what happened to your brother - James.”

Lauriette’s heart skipped a beat.

“What have you done with my brother?”

Everything started to come back to her.

She had been at home. She had been with the dogs. She had been watching the television - waiting for the News. She’d heard they were running a story about her brother on there. More specifically - his disappearance. It was then - just before the broadcast started – that there was a knock at the front door. She had ignored the first one and answered the second.

There was a skinny man there, a five o’clock shadow on his face. He was dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt and had the most piercing eyes - light blue - that seemed to cut straight through her with a burning intensity.

She’d asked, “Can I help you?”

“You’re looking for your brother. I know where he is.”

His accent. The man talking to her now… It was the same person.

“What do you want?” she had asked, trying to sound as though she weren’t terrified.

“I have to leave the country. And there I was, packing my stuff up - spending the last few days clearing things away as though I’d never visited when I saw all of the effort you were putting into finding your brother.”

“Where is he?”

The stranger ignored the question and continued, “So I thought I’d give him back.”

“You took my brother?”

“Borrowed him.”

“Borrowed him? What are you talking about… And if you’re going to give him back - why am I tied up?”

“Come now - would we really be having this conversation if you weren’t tied to the seat? Or would you be running down the road as fast as your little legs would carry you?”

“Where is my brother?”

“Around.” The man stepped from the shadows with a small box under his arms. “I’m going to give you a choice but before I do so - I’m going to tell you a little about myself.” He stopped just before Lauriette and set the box down on the floor before looking at her face. She had a bruise on her cheek - a black and purple mess. He winced, “I’m sorry about that but I needed you to come quietly and - well - had I not knocked you out… You probably would have screamed the whole way, right?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You know - most of the time… People put a few posters up, there are a few broadcasts on the various news stations but, after that, everything seems to go quiet. It’s as though the family left behind simply stop caring. You though - you were constantly hounding the authorities, demanding to know what had happened… You were forever putting posters up, delivering leaflets, talking on the news… You really want your brother back. It’s nice to see. And now I’m leaving, I have no reason not to give him back to you. A parting gift from me to you.”

Lauriette asked again, “Why are you doing this? Any of this? Why?”

“Here’s your choice.” The man opened the box and took out the contents; a small box with a button on it and a handgun. He placed the two items on Lauriette’s lap. “You Americans and your gun laws. So easy to get hold of. No wonder so many people get shot.” Lauriette didn’t say anything. She looked down at the two items. “I’ve killed ten people since being in your country. I haven’t killed your brother yet. The others are definitely dead though and I doubt their bodies will ever be found. When I get home, I can’t promise I won’t continue doing what I do. I feel like I need to do it. Please don’t ask me why. So here’s the thing… You can kill me and stop me right here, right now. You’ll be a hero. Pick that gun up and shoot me and then press the button on that box for a clue as to where you will find your brother. Or - you can watch me walk away and…” He reached into his pocket and withdraw a cell phone before placing it next to the control-box, “… I’ll give you a ring on this with the exact location of your brother.” He paused a moment, “So - kill me and maybe find your brother or let me go and potentially find him?” He stopped talking and waited for Lauriette to make up her mind. She didn’t say anything. “Well, this is exciting…” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a pocket knife. He took the blade out and stood there for a moment with it pointed towards Lauriette. She showed no emotion, keeping a brave face in place. He nodded as though impressed and made his way round to the back of her. She flinched as he cut the restraints. By the time he came back round to the front of her, the knife was stowed back in his pocket. “You can cut the ankle restraints after you’ve made your decision,“ he said quietly. Lauriette wasn’t moving. Her eyes were fixed on him - a hard stare as though she was trying to work out if he was joking or not. “So what’s it to be?” he asked again, pushing for an answer.

- Chapter Five -

Lauriette looked down at her lap. A gun, a phone and some kind of remote control that she didn’t recognise; a single button on it that would supposedly give her a clue as to where her brother was. She looked back to the stranger. He was watching her intently, hands in his pockets. If she was going for the gun - to put a bullet right through him - he didn’t look as though he were going to try and stop her or put up a fight.

Did he want to die?

She couldn’t help but wonder whether he knew he was evil and that he needed to die. Perhaps he was aware the world would be a better place without him? A monster who’s had enough of being the beast? The villain who welcomed death so he didn’t have to be the bad guy anymore?

“I’m sorry to rush you but if you’re not going to kill me, I really need to get going to catch my plane…”

Lauriette closed her eyes momentarily. She pictured her brother. He was standing there, smiling. Various memories flashed through her mind - mostly geared around their Saturdays together.

Every Saturday he’d come over with his own dog - a beagle called Jessie. They’d watch Japanese horror films together (sometimes she’d make him watch anime) and play video games. Tama and Jessie would play together whilst Sweeties would try and ignore all of the shenanigans. They were good memories. James was Lauriette’s rock. Her only friend. He was her voice of reason. He knew what to say to her when she was panicked, angry or scared. He had the ability to talk her down with logic and reason, very rarely ever having to raise his voice. She knew - without him - she’d be lost. She needed him and yet…

She opened her eyes.

In front of her was a man who had admitted to being a murderer. Not only that but he’d also admitted to the possibility of killing more if he wasn’t killed there and then, with Lauriette being the one to pull the trigger.

He was smiling at her. All of this was normal to him.

He’s fucking crazy.

He nodded down towards her lap; more specifically the items he had placed there. She looked down. She could kill him. A quick shot to the head. She’d press the button and she’d get a clue as to where her brother was. Or… She could let him go and - at some stage - the phone would ring with his exact location but - picking that scenario - more people could die.

Kill him. Potentially find brother. Save the lives of other people.

Let him go. Find brother. Other people die.

“Really need to push you otherwise I’m just going to leave.”

Potentially find brother? She could phone for help with the phone, once he was dead. The police would come. They could bring tracker dogs. The dogs would help find him.

Without any warning, Lauriette grabbed the handgun - she raised it up towards the stranger’s head. He closed his eyes and waited for the bullet.

“Fuck you!” she hissed.

He smiled as she squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The stranger started laughing again. Lauriette squeezed the trigger again and again - each time the gun clicking empty. She screamed out and threw the gun at him, not that it connected. It clanged to the floor.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I gave you a way to find your brother’s exact location, all you had to do was let me walk away. But - instead - you chose to kill me even though it means you’d never know where he was.”

“I’d find him. The police would come with their dogs.”

The man laughed, “You honestly think he is that close? Those dogs would have a long, long way to trek if they wanted to find your brother.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe you tried to do that. Or that you believed I really wanted to die and would give you the means to kill me.”

“Fuck you!”

“I tell you what, girl, I like you. You have spirit. I was going to take that little remote away with me as punishment for trying to kill me but… I’m going to let you keep it. One last chance to find your brother.” He paused. “I think you’ll find the words are thank you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fifty percent right. Not bad, I guess, given the situation you find yourself in and the obvious stress.” The man shrugged, “Right… I’m out of here. I have places to be, planes to catch and all that. You… You go easy girl. I mean that. I hope things work out for you.” He paused again - just a moment - before beaming a broad smile towards her and then - with that - he collected the phone from her lap, turned and walked away.

Lauriette screamed out in frustration and then - as his footsteps grew fainter - she started to work at the bindings around her ankles, keeping her on the chair. Her mind was no longer on the stranger, instead it had turned back to thoughts of her brother. It won’t be much longer now, she’d find him. If she couldn’t - the authorities would. At least she knew he was alive. Unless that was a lie too and he was already dead? Maybe the phone call she’d been promised - had she let the stranger live - was going to lead her to his dead body?

Her eyes welled up at the thought of James being dead somewhere.

Don’t think about that.

As soon as she was able to, she kicked the restraints away and stood up - grabbing the box from her lap before she did so to keep it from falling onto the floor and (possibly) breaking.

One button.

Could this really be a clue as to his whereabouts?

She went to press the button and suddenly stopped herself - her thumb inches away from the knob. She was unable to shake away the possibility that it was a trap. A false ray of hope beaming into her life, just as the gun had been.

Her mind was torn. One part wanted to press the button and the other half wanted to get out of there and find a phone. After all, she’d been told James wasn’t here unless…

Was that a lie too?

The frustration brimming within flowed over the top of her slipping mask of sanity and she screamed out loud. Given the lack of phone, and the fact she had no idea where she was - she had no option but to press the button; get the clue to James whereabouts.

She took a deep breath and held it. With her heart racing, she pressed the button as far as it would go. The button clicked down and - in front of her - the wood chipping machine suddenly roared into life; hundreds of teeth chopping down and grinding on something large. The abruptness of the machine starting up startled Lauriette causing her to drop the remote.

She leaned down and picked it up. The sound of teeth chewing through something hard changed to a more slushy sound… She looked up, sudden horror and realisation on her face - the flume sticking from the side of the machine, aimed directly at her, shuddered from side to side with little vibrations before spitting out the contents it had minced up in preparation.

A sea of red with shreds of pink and small chunks of white vomited over Lauriette who screamed loudly, frozen to the spot.

She had found her brother.

- Chapter Six -

As the amount of gore intensified, hitting her, she lost her footing and slipped onto all fours with a splash, dropping the remote device once more.

Lauriette scrambled through the guts until she laid hands on the remote device once more. A quick press of the button and the machine shuddered to a stop with a final cough spitting out a chewed up shoe along with a dribble of blood.

She screamed out again, moving out of the pool of intestines as she did so - crawling along the floor. A loud round of applause from behind her startled her. She spun around and saw the stranger there, a beaming smile on his face. His hands clapping backwards and forwards - each clap echoing around the barn. Lauriette screamed at him again which only made him smile more.

“Fuck you!” she yelled.

“Don’t worry,” he said, laughing, “You’re not the first person to press the button and I’m sure you won’t be the last but… You do get the honour of being the last one to press it in this country! So - yay! - well done you!” 

“Why are you doing this?” Lauriette screamed, tears streaming down her face.

Had it really been James?

“It’s funny how you all press the button even after I’ve tricked you with the gun. It’s like you don’t learn. Why? Why is that? Hope?”

Lauriette asked him again, “Why are you doing this?”

The man’s persona suddenly changed. The smile disappeared from his face, replaced with a stern look, “Because I don’t like you.”

“You don’t know me!” Lauriette wept. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why he was standing with her now. She understood why he had come back. He had never had any intention of letting her find her brother alive or for her to leave. He was always going to kill them. Chances were that James had already been dead when he went into the wood-chipper and as soon as the stranger and Lauriette had finished speaking - she too would die.

“I know enough. I know you work as the assistant manager for Hutzler Music Inc. I know it’s a family run business but - to be fair - that was easy to figure out, what with you sharing the same name as the company you work for. Have to say though, it doesn’t sound that interesting; dealing in the commercial rental of buildings for those interested in opening bars, parlours and gentleman’s clubs. Unless… When those businesses do get set up - do you get to go? Do you get discount? Might be more interesting then…”

“That’s not who I am…”

“What isn’t? The pathetic woman who works in the family business? The lady who goes to work day in and day out, taking her dogs with her… Same as James - the only difference between the two of you being that he has a penis and you a cunt… Although…” He nodded towards the mess of guts and blood on the floor, “… Not sure he has a penis anymore.”

Lauriette wasn’t listening to him anymore. She was trying to work out why someone she barely knew would be treating her - and her brother - like this. It didn’t make sense.

Unless…

“Were you a customer? Did you try and apply for property only for us to turn you away?”

The stranger laughed once more, “Do I look like a customer?”

“I don’t understand…”

The man cut her off, “Stand up.”

She did as she was told and scrabbled up to her feet. Blood dripping from her. Her hands were raised in a defensive position, not that she’d be able to stop him from hurting her. She was strong but… He was psychotic. How do you stop someone like that?

“Please don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t kill me.”

“Who said I was going to kill you?”

No one had said it yet she knew that was why he had come back. To tie up the loose ends. He couldn’t let her live because she knew what he looked like. Even if she said she wouldn’t - to his face - she would report him as soon as his back was turned.

He pulled the gun out, “I mean - I’m going to but.. Who actually said it? Is it that obvious?”

“Please don’t do this,” Lauriette said.

The stranger shrugged, “It’s already done.” He raised the gun, aiming it at Lauriette’s head. She raised her hands up, shaking.

“I have dogs. Please don’t do this.” She was crying, tears streaming down her face as she stared death in the eye. “Who will look after them?”

The man shrugged again, “You don’t have friends? You don’t have anyone else who could step in and care for them?” He paused a moment, “Well, I guess, they’ll go to a home and then - no doubt - they’ll be destroyed.”

Lauriette somehow seemed to weep louder than before at the thought of her dogs being euthanised. The man raised his finger up to his mouth and shushed her quiet, not that his instructions worked. She was worked up and she had every right to be. She’d just seen her brother torn apart in a wood-chipper, she had a gun aimed at her head and she had the knowledge that her dogs were also going to die, alone in some shelter across town. There weren’t a lot of reasons for her to stop crying.

The stranger smiled, “You love your dogs?”

She nodded. They were her life. Many a night had been spent curled up with her dogs by her side, her only company with the exception of the characters in the books that she read.

“That’s good. Sometimes people get animals and they love them to start off with. They care for them, they feed them, they keep them clean but then their attention wavers or there is another cuter animal out there that they simply can’t live without. So, like idiots, they go and buy them and then ignore the other animals they have. It’s sad really. People - well, these big companies - they make it easy to buy animals. Pets. Anyone can get them so long as they have the money. They should run more checks on these people. Make sure they’re good owners and that the animals are going to good homes…” He laughs, “Sorry - something I feel passionate about.” He breaths in, catching his breath, “Anyway - it’s refreshing to hear someone talking who cares about their pets so much. It’s a welcome change from hearing them moan about how they’re ruining the furniture or crapping all over the garden…”

“I do love them…”

“And I don’t doubt that so… This should make you smile…”

“What’s that?”

“It won’t be long before they join you up in Heaven.” The stranger smiled and squeezed the trigger of the handgun sending a round straight into Lauriette’s skull. Her neck cracked as the force of the bullet sent her head backwards. The man lowered the gun, a wisp of smoke billowing from the barrel, and he watched his latest victim. She stood there a moment, maybe two, tottering on each foot before - slump - she fell to the floor, dead.

The stranger looked around at the mess, her dead body and the spray of gore leading from the wood-chipper. He breathed the scene in, the scent of the death and breathed out.

Satisfaction, albeit short-lived. He would have liked to have stayed longer, to really enjoy it but - no choice, he still had a plane to catch after all. 

Part Three

ENGLAND, KENT.

Today.

- Chapter Seven -

Sophie woke up on the floor to the sound of screaming. Somewhere, not too far away, a woman was going through Hell. Sophie scrambled to her feet and went to move towards the open barn door a few feet away from her. She stumbled back onto the hay-covered floor with a yelp; stopped from getting to the door by a collar around her neck, chained to the wall. She scrabbled up to her feet again and took hold of the chain hanging from her neck. She followed it to see where it was attached, hoping it was held by a weak joint.

A couple of hard tugs. It wasn’t going anywhere and panic slowly started to set in. She dropped to the floor unsure of what to do and why she was there. The woman’s screams stopped suddenly and - just like that - an eerie silence filled the air.

Sophie had woken to find herself trapped in a large barn-like structure. Cold stone walls all around, no floor as such - just hay and dirt, the typical smell of a working farm; manure, hay, and a strange mix of freshly cut grass.

She knew how she had got there. She just didn’t know what she was doing there but going by the now-quiet woman elsewhere in the building, her kidnapper’s intentions weren’t good.

Despite knowing - deep down - that it wasn’t going to give, she tugged at the wall mount where the chain was attached. Not just once but a few times, wrapping the chain around her hand for extra grip.

She only stopped when her hand started to ache from the strain.

It’s okay. Sam will be looking for me. Sam will be looking for me. Sam will be looking for me…

Sophie swallowed back the tears. Tears from fear, not from pain. The man who had brought her here, he hadn’t hurt her. Not yet at least. The other woman screaming suggested it was only a matter of time.

Sophie moved to the corner of the mid-sized room, reminiscent of a cell because of the metal bars on the window. She sat with her back to the wall and her knees pulled up close to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the open doorway. A very real concern that someone was going to suddenly appear there, looking in. Someone? Not just someone. Him. A worry that he would soon be standing there. She pulled the chain close to her and held it there as though it was a weapon. If he was coming back for her - and she was sure he would at some point - then she’d be ready. Even if the chain didn’t have enough give to be able to swing it as a weapon it didn’t matter. The illusion of having something to defend herself was more than enough when there was little other hope.

A squeaking noise caught her attention and made sure she was sitting up alert.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

The noise was constant, starting in the distance and getting closer and closer - a steady rhythm to it. Aware the noise was getting closer, she stood up - keeping her back to the wall. A very concerned look on her face.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

She wanted to shout out. Either ‘go away’ or ‘who is it?’ - torn between the two she stayed quiet. What if it wasn’t the man who’d brought her here? What if it is was someone else? Someone who didn’t actually know she was in this room! She didn’t want to highlight her presence, not without knowing who, or what, was causing the noise.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Sophie’s heart skipped a beat as the large front wheel of an old, rusty penny farthing came into view, shortly followed by the rest of it. Sitting up high on the saddle, a man dressed in a black suit - pedalling slow and steady.

Squeak.

Squeak.

He stopped dead in the doorway and slowly turned his head towards Sophie. His face hidden behind a bloody mask of a freshly cut-up face. He raised a hand and waved towards Sophie. She screamed. The masked figure turned forward once again and resumed cycling.

Slow and steady.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

And the mystery guest was out of her line of vision.

Sophie didn’t move from her spot; rooted there with fear. The same thought going through her head again and again, the thought she’d had since waking up here:

It’s okay. Sam will be looking for me. Sam will be looking for me. Sam will be looking for me. He will be. He has to be. Please. Find me.

Sophie screamed out again, “Someone help me!” She didn’t need to be quiet, not now it was obvious they knew exactly where she was and - to her - she was in danger. Now it was all about making as much noise as possible and hoping she was close enough to civilisation that someone, somewhere would be able to hear her. “Help me!”

#

Sam hadn’t slept a wink - not properly. He had crashed on the sofa waiting to hear back from his wife, occasionally dozing off for a few minutes at a time. There had been nothing from Sophie all night. Not a missed call, not a text message - just silence. Most of the night had been spent jumping at random sounds outside, hoping to see her staggering home from a night out on the tiles with her friends but it was usually just a cat or passing traffic.

The sun was up now. Sam was sitting on the sofa adjacent to the living room window. His eyes heavy and vision blurred from a lack of sleep. His stomach was twisting and turning inside, a worry as his mind kept asking where she had got to - turning over and over again, the same question.

Where was she?

Another twist of concern ripped through his gut. That was enough. He reached for his phone, now sitting on the arm of the sofa. He had waited long enough. It was completely out of character for Sophie to disappear without word. Something must have happened. It was time to call the authorities.

9-9-9.

The line connected almost immediately.

What service do you require?

“Police please.”

Connecting now, please hold.

The line clicked a couple of times before a female operator answered asking the nature of the emergency.

Sam tried to keep his composure whilst explaining, “I’d like to report a missing person.”

- Chapter Eight -

Sophie woke with a start, the sound of metal skidding across the floor, from doorway to middle of the room. Her captor, or captors, had kicked a metal bowl of food into the room as though feeding an animal, not a person. Her head was resting on the cold, hard floor. A few strands of hay poking into her mouth causing her to spit them out. She didn’t remember falling asleep yet that’s what must have happened.

“Eat.”

Sophie sat up fast, startled once again by the voice, her back hunched against the wall and knees pulled up close to her chest. Her preferred defensive position, not that she could do much tethered to the wall with the chain still collared to her neck.

She couldn’t see anyone in the doorway; couldn’t tell if the voice belonged to the same man who’d taken her or if it was someone else. She froze, wondering if they’d say anything else.

Nothing.

Footsteps as the person walked away from the room.

Her eyes looked down to the bowl of food. Some kind of brown slop. Was it even food or just a bowl of faeces; a fucked-up test to see if she’d eat it. Hungry, she pulled it closer and gave it a sniff. Not shit. Dog food. Maybe cat.

Not that hungry.

She pushed the bowl away. Sam would be there soon. She’d eat then. Little did she know that - in the family home - Sam was being told there was nothing the police could do until she had been missing for at least twenty-four hours.

It had been twelve.

Sophie turned her attention back to the bracket on the wall, keeping her chain in place. By periodically working on it, it had started to give. The top nails had started to pull from the wall. She wrapped her hand around the chain, the added support, and started to pull backwards once more with what little strength she had left. She didn’t doubt Sam was coming for her but that didn’t mean she was going to sit there and do nothing but wait. She had seen too many horror films to know that nothing good comes from sitting and waiting.

If there was a chance to escape, she’d take it.

#

Sam’s frustration was obvious to the two officers standing in his living room. One officer listened as his partner, a female officer, scribbled notes down in a small notebook.

“She doesn’t just disappear without talking to me,” Sam repeated himself.

The officers understood but they had procedures to follow. Most of the time missing people showed up a few hours after they had allegedly disappeared. Sometimes there was no communication because the phone was out of battery, or in a black spot, or they simply didn’t think to get in touch. Time had simply got away from them.

The female officer finished jotting down the last of Sophie’s details, “Okay, I think we have everything.” She shut the pad. They had a description. They had details on where she was last seen, even details of the last time Sam and Sophie spoke. Sam admitted this was out of character for Sophie and - when pushed - that she wasn’t a danger to herself, or others.  There was nothing else they could do until the twenty-fourth hour.

“So what happens now?”

The male officer handed a card to the Sam. He looked at it, the officer’s name and a phone number to get him on if need be.

“Call us at seven o’clock if she hasn’t shown up. The case will be passed across to the appropriate team and we’ll look into the CCTV at the site she allegedly went missing and we will start to open up some inquiries.”

“That’s it? Don’t you think we should check the CCTV now? If she was taken… Every second counts, right?” Sam started to panic at the thought of someone taking his wife from him.

“Sir, in cases like these, a lot of the time the people show up…”

“And the times they don’t?”

The two officers didn’t say anything. There was nothing else they could do, as horrible as it sounded. They understood Sam was worried but until the twenty-fourth hour, there really was nothing they could do.

“What if I ask to see the footage?” Sam asked, desperate. “From the car park? What if I ask to look at the CCTV footage myself? Like head down there now?”

“I doubt very much that they would let you see it,” the man said in a matter of fact tone. “You just need to let us do our job…”

“But that’s the problem, you’re not doing your job! You’re doing nothing until she has been missing for twenty-four hours and - in that time - she could be fucking dead!” He calmed himself, “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

“We understand your frustrations but the best thing you can do at the moment is wait here in case she tries calling…”

Sam slumped down on the sofa. The two officers remained standing.

“What if it was your partner out there?” he asked both of them.

Neither answered. What they would want to do and what - in their jobs - they had to do were two completely different things and Sam knew that. Even so, he knew he wasn’t going to get them to do anything sooner. He knew that - until seven o’clock - he was alone and, as weird as it might have sounded, he hoped Sophie was too. He’d rather she was by herself than surrounded by hospital staff trying to make her better or, worse yet, people trying to hurt her.

A thought popped into his head.

Hospital.

That was something Sam could do whilst waiting for the twenty-fourth hour. He could phone the hospitals, see if they had anyone of Sophie’s description admitted during the early hours of the morning. They might have found some identification on her, saying who she was, but it didn’t mean they had his contact details to notify him. And if there was no I.D - there might have been someone of her description? It had to be worth a shot and - using his mobile - it wouldn’t tie up the land-line if she did try and call.

“Well, thank you for your time.” Sam stood up and walked from the living room, back towards the front door. The two officers followed close behind him.

“If we hear anything we will be in touch but I mean it - the best thing you can do at the moment is stay by the telephone for if she tries to get hold of you.”

Sam nodded as he opened the front door.

“Again, thank you for coming down.”

The officers stepped outside. Without waiting for them to say their final goodbyes, Sam slammed the door after him and hurried back to where the house phone was plugged into the wall. He couldn’t believe he’d only just thought about calling around the local hospitals. For all he knew, she could have been there all night; scared and in pain. In his mind, he started playing through the scenario that she’d been hurt the previous night and - without him by her side - she had died from her injuries. He tried to dismiss the unwanted thoughts as he used the Internet on his mobile phone to hunt the necessary numbers.

Mobile phone to get the numbers. House phone to dial them.

What if she’s dead? She died and I wasn’t there for her.

It was a horrible thought but even more so when it was to do with someone you loved.

Mobile’s Internet browser loaded; first number displayed.

Please be wrong. Please let Sophie be okay.

- Chapter Nine -

The metal bracket came away from the wall, landing on the floor with a heavy clank. Sophie dragged the broken end of the chain towards her, scooping it up off the floor in her hands before standing up. Looking towards the door, checking the noise hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention, she seized the opportunity to escape the room.

Sophie wrapped the chain around her hand a handful of times, pulling it close to her body - all coiled up in order to stop it from clanking around and possibly alerting more people. Job done, she crept towards the open doorway and leaned out into the corridor beyond.

A long barn-house. Doorways, such as the one she was standing in, lining the way to a large, wooden set of double-doors at the far end. The exit? She checked over her shoulder. Behind her was more of the same. Doorways - with no actual doors attached - and another large set of double-doors at the opposite end of the building. On the floor, laying on the side, next to them - the rusted penny farthing the stranger had cycled past on during the night.

Decision made.

Sophie started heading in the opposite direction to the one the stranger had taken; hopeful of decreasing the chances of bumping into him again.

Was it the same man?

After a few steps, she froze. The sound of shuffling coming from one of the rooms she was heading towards. Something large moving on the floor. Sophie glanced back over her shoulder, the penny farthing being the reminder that she couldn’t go in that direction. He had gone that way. She couldn’t.

More shuffling. She turned her head, following the sound of the noise once more. She could only go this way.

What if the man came back in when she was asleep? What if he just left the penny farthing over by the door? Maybe he hadn’t been in the mood to use it again? What if she was walking straight back to where he was?

“Hello?” she whispered loud enough for a person to hear her had they been in the same room but not loud enough to be heard from anyone outside of the old building. If it was the man from the previous night - shuffling around for whatever reason - he’d appear in the doorway and she’d have time to turn and run back in the other direction. Not much of a head-start but better than nothing. Certainly more of a head-start than if she just chanced it and walked over there only to then discover it was him. The shuffling continued but no one called back. “Is there anyone there?” she whispered again. Same volume and same reasonings as before.

Her heart was thumping so hard she could feel each beat in the back of her throat - an uncomfortable feeling. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. She took a step closer to the source of the noise. Heartbeat not getting any calmer.

“Hello?” Another whisper unanswered.

Sophie froze again. Another look over her shoulder back to the other possible exit. Another look forward. Another shuffling from the room between her and the second exit. She didn’t need to look in there, a thought popped into her head. She could just make a run for it. Looking at the large doorway here, staring at it with hope, there seemed to be no lock on the door. She could just run for it, pull it open and run into… Whatever was waiting for her out there.

Shit.

What was out there?

Another shuffling from the room. It didn’t matter what was outside when she didn’t even know what was inside. All that mattered was that she ran and didn’t stop.

Shuffling.

Shit. What is that?

“Hello?”

Another step closer. She was a few feet away now. Another step forward and she’d be able to see inside the room. See what was causing the noise. The decision still unmade as to whether she wanted to see or whether she wanted to make a run for it. All the horror films she’d seen were playing through in the back of her mind. If those films were to be believed, nothing good could come from investigating the noise. But they were films and this was real life. It was common knowledge that films showed people at their most stupid. People weren’t that stupid in real life. Sophie wasn’t that stupid.

She took a step backwards.

It’s a trap.

Everything. The shuffling noise, the supposed exit. It was all a trap. The other way - back where the person appeared to have gone the previous night… That was the way to go. It had to be. Whoever had taken her was testing her. She was sure of it. Go for the obvious choices and pay the price.

No. You’re being stupid.

A little voice in the back of her head. She was overthinking this. She couldn’t be blamed for doing so though. She was tired. She was stressed. She was scared.

Shuffling.

Whatever. She knew she couldn’t stand here thinking all day. She had to make a decision and she had to make it now. And the decision is…

Part Four

America, West Virginia.

Three Years Previous.

- Chapter Ten -

Birds were singing in the nearby trees or flying through the skies using the minimal winds to their advantage, corn swaying back and forth in the fields lining either side of the road. Footsteps on the concrete, occasionally catching and scraping, size ten feet filling the boots, belonging to a tired man. His eyes were fixed firmly on the horizon, or rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on the farmhouse on the horizon. He’d been walking so long, his water bottle was empty and all he could think about was finding a place to refill it. The farm, popping up over the horizon, was a good a place as any.

He stopped a moment to catch his breath.

He had wanted to see America. This particular walk wasn’t supposed to have been a long one but every turn had shown something new to see and he had just kept walking. Regretted it now though, aching legs, sore feet, a headache from the blazing sun beating down hard upon him and so incredibly thirsty. He definitely regretted the walk now - and the lack of traffic to hitch a lift.

A few more breaths of the warm air and he continued on his way. Another ten minutes or so, he estimated, and he would be at the house. With any luck, someone would be in.

“Long way from civilisation,” a voice from the edge of the corn-field made the man jump. He turned. A farmer was standing there with a shotgun over his shoulder.

The man’s heart rate started to calm, “You scared me.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“I was headed over there,” he pointed to the farm, “was hoping to refill my water bottle.”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Town back that way.”

“You walk on this way with one bottle of water?” the old man laughed. “Might want to see if you can get another bottle of water whilst you’re there too.” He sighed, “Come on, that’s my place. I’ll take you up there.” The farmer didn’t wait for the stranger to say anything. He started walking, expecting the man to follow - which he did. “Your accent. You’re not from around here. Where you from?”

“England.”

“Long walk.”

The man smiled again, “Needed to get away for a while. Headed over here to see what I was missing on this side of the pond.”

“Liking it?”

“It’s peaceful enough.”

“No place like home though, right?”

The two men walked in silence for a while. The man was thinking about home and the reasons he had come to America in the first place. His girlfriend had cheated on him with one of his friends. He had tried to forgive and forget, to move on with his life but he was reminded of them at every turn. If he saw couples showing public displays of affection, he imagined it was them.  If he saw fucking in a film; it was their faces. Anything and everything reminded him of the betrayal and the pain of the broken heart he had suffered. This trip was supposed to cleanse him of that feeling. Make him realise what it was like to live once more. Teach him how to forgive and forget and - for the most part - it had. The land and sights had so much to show him that he found very little time to think about what he’d left behind at home. Until now that was. Tired, aching, sore… Miserable. All thoughts were flooding back to him.

“You come out here by yourself?” the farmer asked. “Don’t get any tourists out here.”

“I didn’t want to see the tourist areas.”

Couples in love, walking around hand in hand. People laughing. People smiling. People having fun; a good time. Why would he want to be reminded of that? The things he had before his drunk partner took it upon herself to kiss his best friend. A kiss that led to fellatio and, finally, penetrative sex.

“I don’t blame you. I can’t think of anything worse. Truth is, I rarely leave the farm. Spend my days working here surrounded by nature and peace. Occasionally pop into the nearby town to take crops to market but that’s about it. Wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“So what do you usually do then?”

“Back home?”

The stranger was unemployed. At least he presumed he was. He had worked in an office but had left to come overseas. He hadn’t told anyone. He had simply gone home from work one day and hadn’t bothered returning. He wasn’t sure when he was going home - or even if he would - but he knew that, when he did, he wouldn’t be returning to that job.

“I’m between jobs at the moment,” he told the inquisitive farmer. He steered the subject away from his personal life, “Maybe I’ll go home and set up a farm,” he said.

“A lot of work but I enjoy it. It’s rewarding. Well - I say that - sometimes it is. This year hasn’t been the best, for example. Seems there are more and more crows attacking the crops. Rabbits are a pain too…”

The stranger changed the subject, “Do you live out here alone?”

“I do now. Wife passed away last year.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“She had a good life. Got sick towards the end of it. Was a blessing by the time she passed.”

“I guess. No more pain.”

“No more pain,” the farmer agreed with a smile. “I don’t mind the solitude though. Like I said before, it’s peaceful out here.”

“I bet. I live in the city back at home. Wouldn’t mind moving to the countryside.”

“English countryside much different to this?”

“Less vast.”

“I hear that.”  The farmer turned off the road, towards the house. Not far now. A rusty gate separating them from the actual property. The farmer opened the gate and beckoned the stranger through. “Here we are then.”

The stranger hesitated a moment, “No dog?”

The farmer laughed, “Not all farmers have dogs.”

The stranger stepped onto the property and the farmer closed the gate behind him.

“You live in the middle of nowhere. Is the gate really necessary?”

The farmer shrugged, “I like it.” He walked up to the front door and opened it without the need of a key.

“Don’t lock it?”

“No need.”

The farm house was old. From the outside, up close at least, it was clearly in a bad way with some much needed repair work necessary. To the left of the property was an old barn which was in a similar state, if not worse. Mostly a wooden structure it had several slats missing, letting the light spill in.

“Come in,” the farmer stepped into the house. “I should have a spare flask in the kitchen. Fill your bottle up and fill that too. Day’s only going to get hotter as it goes on into the afternoon.” He set his shotgun down, leaning it against the wall in the hallway, and headed through to the kitchen - a large room out the back. The stranger followed, dumping the bag he carried over his shoulder next to the gun. “Take a seat,” the farmer pointed to a wooden table in the corner of the room. Despite the appearance of the property from outside, inside was quite nice. Sure it needed a little work here and there but - overall - it was comfortable. Homely.

The stranger sat as the farmer started going through the cupboards, looking for a spare flask he could give the man.

“I know it’s around here somewhere.”

“You have a nice home.”

“Thank you. Needs a few bits and pieces done about the place but… Ah ha!” He stood up, pulling a flask from one of the shelves. “Here we go.” He walked over to the sink with it and filled it with cold water as the stranger looked on.

“I like it here,” the stranger said. “I think I could get used to it.”

“It’s a good life.” The farmer switched the tap off. “Where are you staying?”

“Mostly hostels. Cheap…”

“Sorry - I never asked you your name.”

“Shane.”

“Well pleased to make your acquaintance, Shane. I’m Gerry.” He crossed the room and extended his hand. The two men - no longer strangers - shook.

“Pleased to meet you too.”

“You got your water bottle? I’ll fill it for you.”

“In my bag,” Shane said. He stood up and headed out of the kitchen.

The farmer stood there a moment, watching after him. He was weighing things up in his mind. The young man seemed nice enough, certainly friendly. Maybe If he was any good at Do-It-Yourself, he would think about offering him a bed. Somewhere to stay in exchange for some work done around the property. He nodded to himself, it seemed the right thing to offer. A bed in exchange for some work. He turned away from watching Shane and opened the fridge, looking for food.

“You hungry?”

The gun shot blast through the air as the farmer’s head exploded - brain, skull, skin and blood splattered into the open fridge spraying the contents. Shane lowered the smoking shotgun. A smile on his face. He could get used to living here. It was nice. It was quiet. It was just what the doctor had ordered.

An escape from her and what she had done to him.

He welcomed the peace.

- Chapter Eleven -

Shane was sitting on the floor of the kitchen. The farmer’s body was by his side. Remnants of the farmer’s head dripped noisy from the fridge to the floor. The only sound in the house. The shotgun was on the floor next to Shane. A small puddle of sick next to that; an involuntary reaction to watching the farmer’s head pop.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the corpse. “It wasn’t planned. This isn’t who I usually am. I’ve just been feeling strange recently and… Well… I saw an opportunity for a new life. You’re out here, with no one… This is the life that I want. The quiet… I can’t help but feel how peaceful it will be.”

The farmer was sitting at the table, drinking from the recently filled flask. He put it down to one side and stared at Shane. There was anger in his eyes. “You didn’t have to kill me.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“You said.”

“Just happened.”

“You explained.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Changes nothing.”

“I pictured you were him.”

“Who?”

“My friend.”

“Shoot all your friends?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“He stole her from me.”

Gerry started to laugh, “You killed me because a man took a woman from you?”

“A basic way of looking at it.”

“No other way of looking at it.”

“Came here looking for peace. Liked what you had…”

“So you took it.”

“Didn’t think about it.”

“Clearly.”

Shane shifted where he was sitting, the whole conversation was making him uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the floor causing him to move.

Gerry asked, “Why did you not just kill him?”

“Them. I nearly killed them.”

“Yet you killed me.”

“Didn’t think it through.”

“Lucky me.”

“I wanted to kill them. I couldn’t though. Hard to kill people you’re close to. Especially in those circumstances. People would know it was me. This…”

“This?”

“You.”

“Me.”

“I’ll get away with killing you.”

“Sad thing is you’re probably right. Not many people come by here. One of the things about having a quiet life. People don’t tend to miss you.”

“I did you a favour.”

“You did?”

“Put you out of your misery.”

“I was happy.”

“Really? You were alone.”

“This is the life you’re seeking for yourself though.”

“I was hurt. Better to be away from people. They can’t hurt you that way.”

“And you can’t hurt them.”

Shane looked at Gerry. He wasn’t sitting at the dinner table. He was lying on the floor. His head was missing from his body (mostly). The brains still dribbling down the fridge. He knew the conversation hadn’t been real. It was in his head but that didn’t stop it from being accurate. If he was working his farm, away from civilisation - he couldn’t be hurt and he couldn’t hurt others. What he did here - it was a necessary evil. Yes.

A necessary evil.

He suddenly jumped to his feet and reached forward, grabbing Gerry’s body by his feet. Without considering the mess from the head-stump, he started dragging it towards the backdoor. Is this was going to work - if this murder was for any purpose - then he needed to get rid of the body. Hide it somewhere, out back. Stash it in the farm somewhere and then start the new life he had just created for himself. A life without her. A life without pain.

Despite having just murdered someone, Shane couldn’t help but smile.

A little cleaning and everything would be back to normal.

He stopped a moment and dropped Gerry’s legs. Reaching into his own back pocket, he pulled out a folded photograph. The day’s events had done nothing to bury his memories, or the hurt. If anything it had brought it all back to the surface. He unfolded the photo; his ex and the man who used to be his best friend. The man who’d actually introduced him to his ex in the first place. He introduced him to her and then - cruelly - stole her away again as though it were nothing but a game to him.

The pair of them were standing there. Some scenic setting in a forest that Shane didn’t recognise. A picture of a camping trip they’d taken from before he was in her life. Before he had known her. A camping trip they had taken as brother and sister.

Shane closed his eyes. A thought in his head as to whether the pair had been fucking then too. Was that it? It hadn’t been a one time thing as promised by his ex when he found the two of them together. Alcohol blamed yet all this time it was a perfectly normal thing for them to do together.

They had been fucking and the brother had known it was wrong so he had introduced his sister to one of his friends - a colleague from the job Shane had been forced to walk from. An act to try and push her into a more normal, acceptable relationship? Shane had asked himself this over and over again.

“She’s not had much luck with men. You seem like one of the good ones.”

That’s what Shane had been told.

Jesus. The woman he’d been fucking, also having her fill on her own brother’s meat. It made him sick to the stomach. And the pregnancy, the one she swore was his baby… Was it really? Or was it her brother’s seed growing inside? A fucked up reject of inbreeding.

Shane gagged.

He wanted desperately to kill them. Put them down like rabid animals. Hurt them for bringing him into their deranged world and yet all he had done was run away. Run away like a scared child, broken and guilty to have been a part of such atrocities. In the time he had been dating her, he had gotten so close. He had fallen so hard. To have that snatched away in such a manner… And now he was here - forced into killing an innocent in the search for a peaceful life. He was just as damaged as the siblings had been. He’d been pulled into their dark world and any light within his soul had been extinguished for good.

He was the darkness.

Was.

He screwed the photo up and tossed it to the side.

This death will not be in vain. A promise he had made to himself as he picked the dead farmer’s legs up once more. It will lead to a better life. It will lead to peace and moving on from what he’d been a part of.

This death will not be in vain.

This death will not be in vain.

Part Five

ENGLAND, KENT.

Yesterday.

- Chapter Twelve -

The man who had broken Sophie’s phone left her and headed to the cash-point. She turned momentarily as another car turned into the carpark. Still not Sam. Turning her attention back to the man who was getting the money, she watched as he put his card into the cash-point. She was actually starting to feel a little sorry for him. It had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to bump into her and break her phone. It was just one of those things and yet here he was, withdrawing the cost of the device from his bank account.

An expensive evening out for him.

Had she had enough money to replace it, she would have told him not to worry about it but she just didn’t have that kind of cash in the bank. At least, not for another phone.

And that’s why you take out insurance.

“Shit!”

A clatter of coins hitting the concrete distracted Sophie away from the man at the cash-point. The car that had just pulled up had taken up a spot and the driver - Shane - had climbed out, clumsily spilling loose change over the ground in the process. He was bending over, picking the change up. Sophie walked over to help him.

“You want a hand?”

Shane laughed, “That would be great, thank you. So clumsy.”

The man from the cash-point called over, “Machine isn’t working. I’m just popping to the one over in the cinema foyer, you coming or want to wait here?

Sophie started to pick up some of the coins which had rolled further away from the car.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“This is nothing. I once had a carrier bag split on the way back to the car! Container of eggs all smashed, a large four pint bottle of milk burst… Made a real mess and I hadn’t even gotten out of the shop yet.”

Shane laughed again, “Okay. In the great scheme of things.” He changed the subject, “Don’t get dirty…” He noticed Sophie scrabbling away to pick up the coins. “… No sense ruining your outfit for the sake of a few coins!”

“This old thing?”

Shane stood up and stretched out his back before picking up some of the coins again, “I think it looks nice.”

Sophie laughed at his attempts at picking her up, or what she thought was his come-on chat. She hadn’t made an effort. She had literally gone straight home and thrown on some clean clothes before heading back out to meet Sam. She hadn’t had the time to dress up for the impromptu date night. At least, she didn’t think she had had the time. As it turned out, she had plenty of time to make herself look more presentable.

“Thanks but - really - this was just what I had that was clean to wear and quick to grab.”

“Ah - not a date then. Meeting your brother?”

Sophie laughed, “Something like that.”

Shane’s facial expression changed immediately. The smile faded from his face and a blackness developed in his eyes, swallowing up the previous brown colour. Without a word he smacked Sophie straight in the face dropping her to the ground - out cold. Acting quickly, he opened the rear door of his car before picking her up and sliding her in.

Everything happened fast. A routine that had been practised many times before, as well as acted out in real-world situations too. With the back door of the car shut, Shane jumped into the front and started the car. A second later and he was speeding from the carpark, desperate to get back to his ill-gotten property out in the country.

The automatic cinema doors opened and the previous man stepped back out into the fresh air. He looked for Sophie, a glance to the left and then to the right and then crossed the carpark and climbed into his own car. A second later and he too was driving from the area, seemingly without a care in the world - no doubt happy to have got away without having to spend out on replacing a broken phone.

All of it captured on camera and all of it viewed…

Today.

Sam was watching the footage back. Two officers standing next to him; Detective Andrews and Detective Newton. They had collected Sam to come in and view the footage in the hope he might have been able to identify the two men interacting with Sophie in the video. Needless to say, Sam was frantic. He didn’t know the men.

“Are they working together?” Sam asked.

“At this point we do not know but even if they’re not, the first man in the video could be a witness. We’re running the plates of the vehicles as we speak but - to be honest - they could be false, leading to dead-ends,” Detective Andrews stated in a matter-of-fact tone. The case had been given to him due to his experience. It was obvious this wasn’t a missing person case now but rather an abduction - something he’d dealt with before, with success. He was the best person to deal with this one too, as he made a point of explaining to Sam when he first introduced himself.

It had been over twenty-four hours now and Sam didn’t care about who was dealing with the case. He was more frustrated with how long it had taken them to act. They had kept explaining policies to him but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to hear about why they waited twenty-four hours and nor did he care for the centre’s excuses as to why they wouldn’t let him view the CCTV footage when he had called them, asking the question. Had they acted when he had first called then whoever had taken his wife - their getaway time would have been significantly reduced. As it stood now, they had nearly a whole day’s head-start. Sam kept saying over and over again that she’d better be alive.

“Trust me, sir, we will do everything we can in our power to bring her home to you. For now, we need you to remain calm.”

“Someone has taken my wife and you’re telling me to stay calm?”

“Do you have any knowledge of anyone who might have been following her, or threatening her recently?” Detective Andrews asked.

“What? No. No one.”

“Really think. It’s important.”

“Why are we doing this? You have the number plate. Just track the vehicle and…”

“Sir, we are. In the meantime, whilst we’re waiting for the results - we just need to ask some basic questions. Rest assured it doesn’t mean other departments have stopped working. We’re looking into who the vehicle is registered to and what their address is, we’re looking into other CCTV images to try and figure out where the car went… We’re running the images against mugshots of people known to us…” Detective Andrews understood Sam’s frustrations. All people, the loved-ones of those taken, were frustrated and frantic. When they weren’t, it merely raised questions. Frustration and panic didn’t help with solving the case though. It hindered it as the authorities wasted valuable time trying to calm and reassure the worried partners.

“Your wife works as a civil servant. Could she have upset anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?”

“No. I don’t know. Jesus fucking Christ…”

Sam was tired. He hadn’t slept since Sophie had failed to come home, not properly anyway, and he had spent hours phoning around friends and hospitals hoping someone had some news of her whereabouts and now he was dealing with this and - not only that - watching someone, on screen, hit and take his wife. He had no idea whether she was still in the same town or even if she was still alive. He understood they had a job to do and they were doing it but - at the same time - at the moment they were all just standing in the same room as him. Progress behind the scenes wasn’t as good as watching progress unfold before your very eyes.

He sat down on one of the chairs next to the table of monitors, “I feel sick. Can I have a glass of water, or something?”

“Certainly.” Detective Andrews nodded to his partner who disappeared from the room to fetch the drink. “We will find her. This was a messy crime. We know what the guy looks like, we know what car he drives… We will find him.”

Sam wanted to believe they’d find the man but more importantly, he wanted to believe they’d find Sophie and that they’d do so whilst she was still breathing.

- Chapter Thirteen -

Sophie was chained back to the wall. A different room but the same building. Her legs were chained together too. A large chain wrapped around her ankles several times with a padlock clamping the coils together. No matter how much she strained against the wrist restraints, or the chains around her ankles - she wasn’t going anywhere.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry and yet that was exactly what she was doing. Tears streamed down her cheek as thoughts of Sam and the hope he was coming for her faded from her crushed spirit.

Sophie had ignored the shuffling noise and had turned back to the second set of doors - the one with the penny farthing lying on the floor next to them. She had thought it was a bluff. Her kidnapper had left the bike there to give the impression he had left through that door but - in actual fact - he was standing outside the second set of doors. She was wrong. It wasn’t a bluff at all and - worse than that - he was standing outside of the door with a bucket of slop in his hands. She had run straight into him and her getaway was greeted with another strong blow to the head, knocking her to the floor. Unlike the punch in the carpark, he hadn’t knocked her out, just stunned her. The follow-up boot to the head was what took her consciousness.

“Let me out of here!” she screamed. There was no sense being quiet anymore. The way she saw it, she was better off screaming as loudly as she could in the hope that there would be someone close enough to hear her cries. Someone - that was - not involved with the kidnapping.

Was there anyone else?

The familiar sound of the squeaking came from beyond her small room once more. There was no guessing what it was this time. There was no wondering what was going to come by the room. She knew it was him on that fucking penny farthing. Why was he using that anyway? Was there a purpose other than to freak her out?

Does it really matter?

“Let me the fuck out of here!” she screamed again - knowing he could hear.

He rolled up - on the bike - to the doorway and grinned at her. At least this time he wasn’t wearing a mask. He was just as she remembered him from the carpark. Dark eyes, fairly average looking, dark hair, slim build. Nothing that really stood out.

“Let me out of here!” she said again as he continued to stare at her. Menacing eyes despite the supposedly-friendly smile.

He jumped off the bike.

“People like you make me sick.” The smile - all of a sudden - disappeared from his face.

Sophie didn’t rise to the bait. She didn’t want to know what she had supposedly done to offend him. She just wanted him to let her out even though she knew the likelihood of that was slim to none.

“At first I thought it was an isolated case. At first I thought that of all the girls I had met, I was unfortunate enough to have met one of the few sick ones but the more I look around… The more I see it’s not isolated. You’re all doing it…”

Sophie bit.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know - I was living in America for a while. Had a nice farm out there. Bigger than this one, that’s for sure but then… I guess that is to be expected really. Everything is bigger and supposedly better over there. Anyway, for a few weeks I was happy. I had nearly got her out of my mind until I went to the town. I took the farmer’s truck for some supplies - milk, bread… That kind of thing… Went into the local store and came out only to be confronted by a family walking down the street. Brother and sister walking hand in hand like it’s perfectly acceptable. Just like she thought it was acceptable to sleep with her brother…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I killed them.”

Sophie panicked. She knew his intentions weren’t good but… Murder?

“And you know the strange thing? I didn’t feel guilty. I felt as though I was doing everyone else in this God forsaken world a favour but getting rid of the scum that helps to poison it. And trust me when I say that no guilt is quite a big thing. When I killed the farmer, back in the States, I felt bad for a few hours. Promised myself I would never do it again. When I killed the first brother and sister - I felt nothing. Not even for a minute.” He stopped for a moment, clearly lost in deep thought - no doubt re-living the moment. “Again, I thought that was it. Took them out to the farm and ended them but it wasn’t long before I found another sick brother and sister and another and another… One such pairing flaunting their relationship in front of everyone from the family shop they ran together. You’d walk in there and they’d be laughing and having fun and play fighting, bickering… That kind of thing. It made me sick and I realised America was just as tainted as this country, if not worse.”

“You took me because I said I was meeting my brother?” It dawned on Sophie that this was what it was all about. She hadn’t specifically said she was meeting him. If memory served her correctly, she had said ‘something like that’ when he asked her if she was meeting him. He had jumped to the conclusion and acted upon a murderous impulse. This was all a big misunderstanding. “I was meeting my husband! You asked if I was meeting my brother. I laughed. I said the words ‘something like that’. I didn’t want to go into the exact details of what I was doing there. You were a stranger and I was helping you. That was it. You got the wrong end of the stick!”

“The last couple were fun to play with. I put the brother in the wood-chipper. He was unconscious. I gave the sister the device that turned the machine on, telling her it was a clue as to where he was.” He laughed again. “The mess… A billion pieces of shredded brother spraying on top of her. It really was quite beautiful.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“I’d already decided to come home then. Come back to England as I knew I had unfinished business to take care of.”

“I wasn’t meeting my brother! I don’t even have a brother!”

“Went home and called her up… Invited her round to my place telling her that we needed to talk. Of course she came. So did he. They were both worried I was going to tell everyone about their dirty little secret. I just had to sit and wait for them to show up.”

“Please listen to me! I don’t have a brother! This is all just a big misunderstanding!”

It didn’t matter how much she shouted though. He wasn’t listening. His mind had snapped. He was standing in the room with her, this shitty little room in the battered barn, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Sophie screamed hoping to snap him back to her reality.

He didn’t bat an eyelid.

- Chapter Fourteen -

Knocking on the apartment door, it was obvious no one was in. This was the address linked to the owner of the car. Detective Andrews had no idea yet whether this was the man they were looking for or whether the plates shown on the vehicle in the CCTV footage were faked. He was standing there, hammering on the door with his colleague Detective Newton.

“Can I help you with something?” A little, frail voice from the next apartment down.

Andrews looked across to who was speaking. A little old lady. She had no doubt heard the banging and come out to investigate - either being nosy or curious to see what the noise was about.

“Are you looking for Shane? He hasn’t been home for a while now.”

“You know the man who lives here?” Andrews flashed his badge to the old lady to show he was with the law and not someone looking for trouble. It was late in the day now and he realised how two large men banging on someone’s door could give someone the wrong impression - especially with all the crime-filled drama programmes on the television now. They usually have some scene where two large men kick a door in and beat up on the inhabitant.

“Yes, yes. Sometimes he helps me with my shopping. Lovely man. Mostly quiet. Such a shame what happened to him.”

Andrews and Newton both frowned, “What happened?”

“With his girlfriend. He told me she had cheated on him with another man. He was most upset. Decided to go on holiday for a while. He told me he would be gone for a few weeks but it was more like a year. I thought he was never coming home when - suddenly - he just appeared on my doorstep asking me for his fish.”

“Fish?”

“Yes. He asked me to look after his fish for him. Don’t tell him but I’m afraid to say it actually died when he was away. I had to replace it with one that looked quite like it as I didn’t want him to be upset.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Oh I don’t know. Not for a good few weeks now. I guess he comes and goes though because he didn’t ask me to look after the fish this time. Our routines are probably different now but I am sure he will come and say hello when he is back on my own routine. I know he did used to work late at the office…”

“Do you know where he works?”

“He did say but I can’t remember.” She paused a moment before, “Is he in trouble?”

“No. We just need to ask him some questions.”

There was no sense in panicking the old lady.

“I don’t suppose you have a spare key to his apartment do you?” Andrews asked.

“I might still have one.” The old lady disappeared back into her own apartment.

“We can’t just go in there without a warrant,” Newton pointed out.

“Relax. We’re just going to take a look around. See if we can find out where he might be if he hasn’t been coming home at night.” He turned to his colleague. Newton looked worried but then he always looked worried. He was a stickler for the rules, something which annoyed Andrews. Sometimes, just sometimes, the rules had to be bent a little in order to get to the desired end goal. And - with a woman snatched from a carpark by someone who didn’t care as to whether he was seen or not - this was one of those times. “It will be our little secret.”

“Along with all the other times you’ve seized an opportunity like this.” He shook his head, “One day karma will catch up with you.”

Andrews laughed, “I don’t believe in karma. Besides - if it means we can cross this guy off our list… It will be worth it.”

The old lady appeared in her doorway again; a small key between her wrinkled fingers, “Here it is.”

“Thank you,” Andrews took the key from her. “I’ll drop it back in just as soon as we have finished.”

“I hope you find him. Such a lovely man.”

Andrews smiled at her, the best smile he could offer in such circumstances. Turning back to the man’s apartment door, he slid the key into the lock as his partner looked on, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. Andrews twisted the key and pushed the door open - immediately hit by a rancid stink he knew only too well. He pulled the door shut for a moment and turned back to the old lady, “I’m going to have to ask you to wait inside your apartment,” he told her - worried that she was going to attempt to try and follow them into the property.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked - a genuine look of concern on her face.

“Please - just wait in your apartment,” he verbally pushed her back. She muttered something under her breath and walked into her home, closing the door behind her. Andrews turned to his colleague. Going by Newton’s expression, he too recognised the smell.

Death was in the air.

- Chapter Fifteen -

“Every time I think I am finished, I see someone else.” Shane was waffling, his eyes staring, unblinking at the floor but his mind seeing something else entirely. Sophie presumed the faraway look was because he was picturing all of the atrocities he had committed. She struggled against the restraints but - again - it was very clear they weren’t going to give. Not this time. She had had her shot at escape and she had lost it.

Sam will be looking for her. She just needs to stall him.

Shane suddenly snapped back to reality. He shrugged, “We all do what we have got to do.” And - with that - he walked from the room leaving Sophie for mere seconds before returning with a bucket of something stinking. Without any explanations he poured the bucket over Sophie’s legs. It stunk to high heaven; this brown slop.

“What is that?” Sophie tried to move from the mess but the chains stopped her.

“This is all I have left which is why I’m pouring it on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sam will be looking for her. She just needs to stall him.

“Wait,” she said, “you never said… Who was the person who started all of this off? Who was the one who made you think all brothers and sisters are sick?”

Shane looked up at Sophie, confused as to where the question had come from.

Stall him.

“Why do you care?”

“I just want to try and understand.”

“She was my girlfriend. Her brother introduced me to her but now I know it was a lie - all the feelings she pretended to have for me, the happiness her brother felt that his sister was finally in a relationship… It was all a lie.”

“How do you know? What happened? Maybe you were wrong.”

Shane laughed, “I’m not wrong.”

Stall him.

“But…”

“The position I caught them in…”

#

Detective Andrews walked into the bedroom, following his nose and passing the various plug-in air fresheners planted in a multitude of extension cables plugged into the power outlets. He gagged when he saw the rotting bodies of a man and a woman - posed together as though enjoying sexual intercourse; the man on his back, his face hidden from view by the naked form of the woman sitting down upon his face. Her own face next to the man’s cock - the appendage in her dead mouth. He gagged again as Newton stepped closer to investigate.

“They’re stuck together…”

“What?”

Newton spotted something on the floor and bent down to investigate closer. Using a pen pulled from his pocket he picked up a red steel can.

“Glue.”

Evo-stick to be precise, one of the strongest glues on the market. He let the can slip from his pen and drop back to the floor, careful so as not to lose any fingerprints on it. Leaning closer to the bodies - the girl’s face in-particular - he was shocked to see that the man’s penis was glued into her mouth and, not just that, she had glue up both nostrils - blocking them completely.

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

She would have suffocated with the man’s cock in her mouth. It didn’t take a genius to realise he was in a similar position. Her pussy glued down over his mouth and nose - suffocating him too.

Detective Andrews was looking at the wall at the back of the room (the direction they’d come in from). A series of photographs of the deceased couple before they were dead. They looked happy together in all of the pictures.

“We need to call this in.” Andrews pointed to the pile of clothes on the floor, “Hopefully there’ll be some identification in one of their pockets. Something to help us find this son of a bitch. And we need to look into the other missing persons cases too. See if the man in the CCTV footage from this one is linked to those as well. Just… Go over everything…” The dead bodies here - the way they were murdered - and the fact this man, a Mr. Shane Heath, had taken at least one other person they knew of… Detective Andrews feared they had a serial killer on their hands.

#

“I wasn’t meeting my brother,” Sophie tried explaining again but it was clear the stranger standing before her didn’t care. She guessed that everyone said that when they had learned the story of what had happened to him and why he was taking people but just because someone was brother and sister, it didn’t automatically mean they were like his ex-girlfriend and her brother. In fact, Sophie would bet everything she had in stating they were nothing like those two. Two sick, misguided individuals who had tried to do the right thing by stopping seeing each other, but had only made things worse for themselves and - now - everyone else this man met and grew suspicious of. He had just been unlucky and now everyone was paying the price.

“I like living on the farm,” he changed the subject. His eyes had glazed over again. The brief time he had been back in the present had all but gone once more and he was back wherever a broken mind took someone when pulling them from the reality of the situations they were facing.

“Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?” Sophie asked. She was desperate for him to hear her and believe that she wasn’t meeting a brother but - instead - her husband.

“The problem is, they’re expensive to maintain. This one especially because it has livestock. Admittedly I could have just left the animals to die - or even released them into the wild - but that didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem the right thing to do. They’re innocent after all. They don’t deserve to starve to death or get torn apart by predators in the wild.” He stopped a moment. “Besides, I kind of like having them around. They don’t hurt your feelings intentionally. They just go about doing whatever it is they want to do; eating, sleeping, fucking. There’s no backchat from them. No smart-arse comments. There’s nothing.” He nodded down towards the slop on Sophie’s legs, soaking through the leggings she was wearing. “You asked what that is.”

“Will you just stop and listen to what I am saying; I wasn’t meeting my brother. I was meeting my husband. His name is Sam. If you have a phone I could use, I can prove it to you. Let me call him. You can talk to him. He will explain what I was doing there, in that carpark when you found me. And when he does you will see you made a mistake. You can let me go. Yeah? I won’t tell anyone about this place… It will be our secret…”

“Everyone plays their part here,” he continued - that damned faraway look on his face. He suddenly snapped out of it and smiled at her, “look…” He walked from the room.

There was a shuffling commotion from one of the other rooms. It started distant and gradually grew closer as though he were pulling something back towards Sophie’s room. He appeared first and then… Sophie screamed.

He dropped a bloody body to the floor.

“The crows were destroying the crops. They weren’t fazed by the scarecrows. I mean, I don’t know what to do with the crops but - one day - someone might come along who knows. I mean, I know it won’t be long before I’m caught. I know people will be looking for me but that’s fine. I’m even giving them clues as to who I am and where they can find me but when they do find me it will be because God wants them to. My work will be done and I’ll be taken away from all of this. I’ll be put somewhere where I can’t hurt people. You see, once you hurt someone… And do it again and again and again… You start to get a feeling for it. A taste for it, if you will. It will be hard to stop. That’s why I know I need to be caught. That’s why I don’t take the precautions anymore, when looking for people such as you. I used to stick to shadows but not anymore. No need. I feel as though my time is coming… Anyway, I digress… When I am caught - this farm will once again be on the market. I’m trying to keep things running as best as I can so that - when it gets sold - there isn’t much ground work for the new owner to do.”

He pulled the body up that he’d dragged in. A naked, skinned body. The face had been removed; perhaps the same face Sophie had seen him wearing? The form was barely recognisable as a person; it looked more like a film prop from something like The Evil Dead.

“This is what I am using in the fields now. You just put these up on spikes - wooden. Crows hate them. I wonder if it is the smell. Flies love them but that’s fine. I can live with the flies.

“You’re insane!”

“I use people as scarecrows - an idea I had from this serial killer that was in the news not so long ago. Some guy travelling the country kidnapping people and storing them in the back of his rig - only stopping to torture them. When I read about the scarecrow he set up in the field, it got my mind working. Having bodies out in the field, it also helps keep the foxes away from the chickens. That’s right - chickens! This place has chickens too! There’s a turkey but they creep me out. Can’t look at them ever since reading this book called Bird. You ever read that?”

Sophie screamed at him. No words - just a scream in the hope of getting him to stop and pay attention to her. He didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Blood… I’ve hung a few people up by their feet before now and cut their throats, collecting the blood in a trough. I’ve used that for the soil in the rose field… Such beautiful roses grow here, you wouldn’t believe. The new owner of this place could make a killing from them, selling them to local florists..”

“Just listen to me for fuck sake! I wasn’t meeting my brother! Let me phone Sam!” Sophie screaming.

“You - with you - I’m trying something different…” He nodded again to the mess covering her legs. “You asked what that is. It is time to see.”

- Chapter Sixteen -

Sam was sitting in a small room at the police station. He hadn’t been called in. He had gone down of his own accord to see what was happening. Detective Andrews had promised to keep him up to date with what was happening but hadn’t called and Sam was sick and tired of waiting around for the phone to ring.

Andrews was sitting opposite him. A glum expression. He explained - in part - what they had seen in the house. At least that they’d found the man they were looking for. Sam didn’t need to know all the details of what exactly was in the room. He said they’d be issuing the man’s name and photograph to the media and that they would be appealing for anyone with information to come forward.

“But if he sees that, if he flicks on the news, he’ll panic and… What about my wife? What if it sparks him into doing something to her?”

Detective Andrews didn’t say as much but it was clear from the expression; he doubted very much that she was still alive.

Tears formed in Sam’s eyes.

“You can’t think like that.”

“What about the traffic cameras? I thought you were going to use those to try and see where the vehicle went?”

“We drew a blank.”

A tear rolled from Sam’s eye. A second one right behind it.

“There will be no place this man can hide. We will find him and we will find you wife,” Detective Andrews stated. “We have people working on this case around the clock and by the time the media shows the picture on all the channels, in all the papers - this man will feel the walls close in around him. Even if he doesn’t turn himself in, someone would have seen him. Someone would have seen him or he will make a stupid mistake that will lead us directly to his front door.” Detective Andrews stated again, “We will find your wife.”

“I’m glad you’re so fucking confident!” Sam snapped. “Going public with this guy’s picture - showing him to the world… You think he won’t just kill her? You might find her but that leads to the question: how many pieces will she be in when you do find her?”

#

The pigs came into the room - driven there by Shane who watched on as they started tucking into the slop on the floor. First the bits around where Sophie laid and then the bits on her legs as she screamed and screamed. Rows and rows of teeth catching her at first, ripping the leggings and then tearing into her actual flesh, opening it with startling ease. Animals so hungry that they didn’t stop biting, chewing and feasting despite the screams from Sophie. Contented oinks from the pigs as they tucked in. Laughter from the man standing in the doorway - pleased to see the pigs were eating. The worry that they might starve no longer playing on his mind.

Pigs really will eat anything.

The slop was gone. The material from the leggings was gone. The flesh - gone. Bone exposed underneath. Teeth still feverishly biting as the woman screamed her last; shock taking her consciousness and blood loss soon to take her life. And still the pigs ate.

#

“Mr. Hall,” Detective Andrews leaned forward to Sam, “you have to trust us to do our job. We are doing everything we can to find your wife.”

Sam wiped his wet cheek with the back of his hand. He felt stupid for weeping in front of the detective, even under the stressful circumstances. He looked up at the man who was promising his help and asked the one burning question left on his mind, “But what if it’s not enough?”

Detective Andrews didn’t have an answer for him.

T H E    E N D

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