A Friend Of The Family E-Book

Stuart Field

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Families are dying. No matter how hard DCI Platt tries, he's not seeing a pattern; not even after his own wife and daughter are targeted.

Young Melanie has forgotten what life outside Larksford House was like. She's been in for so long. But when Toby joins the team, she starts to remember. She really shouldn't be there. Professor Hicks is delighted that Toby has made the breakthrough for him. It might actually allow Hicks to improve his own fortunes.

Bill Brown sells security; his business improves with every strike of the family killer. As fear in the community grows, Bill's ability to gain a stranger's trust comes to the fore. But what is he hiding?

As the clock ticks, can Platt get closer to the killer, and will Melanie remember the truth?

Leseprobe

A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY

A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY

BOOK 1

STUART FIELD

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Next in the Series

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2021 Stuart Field

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Tyler Colins

Cover art by CoverMint

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

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

This book is for all the fantastic people who work tirelessly in the medial and care-giving world.

To those who care for the elderly and those who need the support of others, both physically and mentally.

To all the medical staff, and emergency services, that have given so much, especially these past few years.

This is for you.

Thank you all.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank

my Amazing Wife, Ani, and my family and friends for their constant support.

To my fantastic daughter, who always makes me proud.

To Gail Williams and Tyler Colins who edited this book.

To Next Chapter books, my publisher.

CHAPTERONE

Monday, the 22nd of April.

Village of Duckton, North Yorkshire, United Kingdom.

Two girls had blessed the house of Jake and Abby Freeman. After years of trying to conceive, their prayers had been answered.

Twelve years later, the Freeman house was abuzz with excitement at the twin girls’ coming birthday party.

Danni Freeman was outgoing, a friendly child who was made friends easily. She was a little charmer, a girl who relied on her charms and beauty to get what she wanted. Melanie Freeman, on the other hand, was quite different. Quiet and reserved, inquisitive and cunning. She was a loner who relied on nobody but herself – the other side of the coin.

When Melanie was younger, she was tested for behavioural problems. All the tests came back with one astonishing fact: little Melanie was a gifted child. She was also diagnosed with having an eidetic memory, and possibly hyperthymesia; more tests would have to be conducted when she was older.

The psychologist the Freeman’s had been referred to, Professor Samuel Hicks, had told them that her behaviour could be put down to Melanie feeling different. Hicks had seen it with many talented children who were trying to find their place in what some would consider ‘a normal world’.

This gift, or curse, meant she remembered everything.

This news came with both shock and fear as far as Abby Freeman was concerned.

Abby looked at Melanie with different eyes after that. It should have been Danni who was the gifted one, not Melanie. Danni had always been Abby’s favourite, whereas Melanie had been Daddy’s little girl.

As the years passed, Danni became more outgoing and became more and more charming. On the other hand, Melanie buried herself in books and kept herself to herself most of the time.

One day Jake bought the family a computer. He needed one for work anyway, so it made sense.

Danni had used it to boost her social media contacts. Something that Jake disproved of due to her only being twelve. But Abby encouraged it.

Melanie had been banned from the computer several times after men from the police had been over to question her regarding incidents of hacking. Now she was only allowed twenty minutes of supervised computer time.

Melanie was fascinated by this whole information network. While Danni was simply interested in who did what with who, and who ate what and where.

* * *

On Saturday the family had gone to Abby’s sister’s home for a small gathering. There had been food and drink, a chance to catch up. It was something the sisters liked to do once a month, a family ritual that had started years before. This time it was Ellen Newman’s turn.

Ellen was the eldest of the sisters. She was tall like the others, with dark hair and a slim figure. Her eyes were dark and held a wide gaze. Like her sisters, Ellen was attractive without being beautiful.

She had married a member of Parliament, Colin Newman. He was Minister of Health. They had been married for four years but had no children as Ellen could not conceive. But this had the effect of making Ellen and Colin’s relationship stronger – or at least that was what they told people.

The children had played hide-and-seek while the adults chatted. The women in one room while the men drank brandy and smoked cigars out in the garden.

The Newman residence was a two-story house built in the 1930s; it had a short driveway and bushes lined the front lawn. At the rear of the house was a sizeable garden with a large lawn and apple tree. A small patio sat between the home and the lawn. Between the terrace and the lush green of the grass were rows of rose bushes that bloomed in various colours.

It was Monday, the day of the girls’ birthday, and the thought of the gathering still lingered in the Freeman family’s minds. All had a fond memory of that night.

All except little Melanie.

That was when her nightmares started. When she began to mutter under her breath.

* * *

The birthday party had started, and all of Danni’s friends were there, but Melanie stayed in her room and read. She had no friends, not those sorts of friends anyway. Sure, there were kids at school Melanie hung out with. But she had not invited them. Melanie did not need to start a war during her birthday, so she let Danni make the day all about her.

Melanie looked over to the wall above her bookshelf. She stared at the mask that hung there. It was a copy of an old Venetian ball mask. Both She and Danni had gotten one.

Melanie’s mask was pale with dark eyes and red lips. There was a hint of red on the cheeks. It was haunting, but there was beauty about it. Danni’s mask appeared to be the same, but it wore a curious grin, where Melanie’s looked thoughtful.

Her father had told Melanie that it was called Adrasteia, and Danni’s was called Laverna. Neither Melanie nor Danni thought any more about the names, and why should they? Both girls hung their masks in their rooms like trophies.

At nine o’clock, the party ended, and both girls were in bed while Abby and Jake tidied up the chaos left behind by ten twelve-year-old girls.

‘Well, that went off without anything getting broken,’ Jake laughed.

Abby shot him a sour look. ‘They were six when that happened, and it was the Todd boy that broke the vase.’

A noise behind them caused Abby and Jake to turn to find Danni in the doorway. She was pale and shivering with fear. Abby rushed over to Danni and flung her arms around her and held her tight.

‘What is it baby, what’s wrong?’ Abby asked.

‘It’s Melanie …’ Danni said. Tears began to flow down her cheeks.

‘What … what’s wrong with your sister?’ Jake asked, concerned, his gaze shooting over to the stairwell.

‘She scares me,’ Danni said, closing her eyes as if trying to wish something terrible away.

Abby raced upstairs with Jake not far behind, furious at the thought that Melanie had played a trick on her precious little girl.

When they entered Melanie’s room, they found her sitting with her back to the door, sitting in her reading chair, and staring out of the window.

‘Melanie, what the hell is going on? Have you been playing tricks on your sister?’ Abby yelled.

Jake looked at Abby with surprise, as though she had suddenly gotten the sisters mixed up. Danni was the trickster, not Melanie.

‘Melanie, sweety, what’s up? Why are you out of bed? Come on. It’s past your bedtime,’ Jake said, stepping into the room.

Slowly Melanie turned around, the mask coving her face. ‘They are going to die, and I’m going to take satisfaction in it,’ Melanie said in a low voice.

CHAPTERTWO

Monday, the 29th of April.

It had been a week after the nightmares and the daymares.

Little Melanie Freeman saw Professor Hicks at his Leeds office several times for therapy. Then, after that week was up, he suggested it may be in Melanie’s best interest for her to go to his clinic near Harrogate.

Abby Freeman had agreed readily; Jake Freeman wasn’t so sure.

Little Melanie was taken to Larksford House Clinic to start her treatment. The drive over had been long and silent. Abby drove the Jaguar hard along the snaking country lanes. Her gaze was fixed in concentration at the road ahead.

Jake Freeman sat next to her on the passenger side. He was staring out of the window as if looking at Melanie would rip out his heart.

Melanie’s gaze switched between the two adults. She still didn’t know what was going on apart from what she had been told.

‘You’re going to stay in a special place, darling, just until you are better,’ Abby had said.

Melanie had not responded. She had just looked blankly at her parents. Then she had packed some items into her green rucksack, including her mask and a thick leatherbound Russian novel. The backpack had a single shoulder strap and was fastened with leather straps and brass buckles. Hanging from one of the straps was a pink teddy bear roughly two inches in length. It was tatty and dirty, but she had had it since she was a baby.

Abby pulled up to a massive iron gate stuck between two sides of a long, high wall. As they waited for someone to meet them, the Freemans could see a colossal white-stone building surrounded by gardens.

CHAPTERTHREE

Saturday, the 22nd April.

Nine years years had passed, and a lot had changed.

Seasons had come and gone, and natural processes had repeated. The time had passed everywhere else, except within the isolated walls of Larksford. The winters had been mild, the spring and summers had been dry, the autumns had been wet.

Old man Hicks was dead.

But Larksford House remained.

And so had Melanie … but she was little no more.

Toby Washington had travelled by taxi from the hotel in Duckton to the clinic. He was to be a new nurse at Larksford House. A temporary situation in the fold to see how he did. Six-month probation. But Toby had no doubts that he would become a permanent resident there. In fact, he was counting on it.

The sky was grey with loitering clouds. From time-to-time, the clouds shifted and changed and the sunlight. or a patch of blue. broke through. Despite the gloom from above, it was warm.

A perfect summer day, some would say.

Toby was in his early thirties, tall with a slim build – but not skinny. He’d flown in from LA a week ago. Naturally, he had done his homework on the establishment. And Toby knew they had done theirs on him.

Toby had remembered his friends and his family’s – mostly his father’s – displeasure, and also puzzlement, at his career choice.

‘Why in God’s name are you going there? It’s in the back and beyond of fuckin’ nowhere?’ they’d said, and they had been correct.

North Yorkshire was no California.

But that was the point.

He was a man who was looking to make a career out of psychology, but not just that, he was a man who wanted to do something in a place where nobody knew him.

He would be outside his father’s shadow and, more importantly, his influence.

Toby’s father was a big shot of a surgeon back in the States, but Toby had different passions. Of course, dear old Dad disapproved, saying it wasn’t real medicine he was going into – meaning there was no money to be made more than anything. Toby disagreed. In his eyes, what he was getting into was more important than what his father was doing.

After years of arguments and threats about being cut off, Toby’s father finally conceded. Toby couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn his father’s breaking point was when Toby’s best friend ditched medical school and joined a Goth band.

Thousands of dollars for the best schools waisted in a blink of a black mascaraed eye.

Toby had been met at the main entrance of Larksford House by a huge man. The man’s bulky frame looked odd in the tight uniform, which made him seem even bigger. His naturally dark skin was made more prominent by the light-coloured clothing. At first glance, Toby thought the guy was a bouncer or the muscle for the place. He had the form, as well as the height, of a player for the All Blacks rugby team.

The guy was huge.

The giant introduced himself as Eric Chapple and said Toby could call him Eric. Likewise, Toby told him his name, which he found with relief that Eric already knew.

Toby walked alongside Eric Chapple as they took the tour of the place. They had stopped at a staff room and found Toby’s locker, where he stashed his backpack.

At first glance, Eric seemed a pleasant, friendly man, with a smile and a skip in his step. He had been there a long time and seen just about everything. Toby followed Eric through the dog-leg corridors and through fire doors and security doors, and up and down staircases.

Toby had known the hall’s history, how it had once been a family estate – a grand hall. But he was overwhelmed by the actual size. During the Second World War, it had been used as one of the command centres because it was far from London and less likely to be bombed. Now it was a clinic for people with mental and psychological problems.

‘We got an easy job here,’ Eric said. They had just walked into the main building from the lobby.

The voice didn’t match the man. Here was a mountain of a man, but his voice rang with a normal tone and not a booming, resonant baritone. This caused Toby to smile. Eric was the ultimate interpretation of a gentle giant.

‘This is the quiet ward,’ Eric said. Waving his hand about as if to show the rooms in front of them. ‘This lot are depressed – or just don’t know what friggin’ day it is.’

Toby followed Eric down a long white corridor, their shoes squeaking from the non-slip flooring. The laminate tiles, dull grey, stood out from the bright white walls, making the hallway seem longer than it was. There was an armoured-glass half-wall every so often on the left or right, showing the room inside. The rooms looked like living rooms or anterooms in the large house. They had comfortable armchairs and large circular tables; there were no pictures with frames or glass on the walls. Toby watched as patients sat doing puzzles, others doing nothing, just staring into space.

As Toby wandered the hallways, he took note of the newness of the place. There had been a refurbishment around five years ago after the original dean and owner had passed away, and his son had taken it over. Toby had seen the pictures of what the place had looked like before. It had become a cold and uninviting place by the time Hicks Senior had died. Now, after the refurbishment, the building had less of a rundown feel about it. It was bright, modern – expensive.

‘Most of the patients here just sit around and stare out of the window, others wander about the gardens,’ Eric said. ‘Most of ’em have had a breakdown, others just feel the world is too much to bear – poor fuckers.’ Eric shook his head. The light from the strip-halogen bulb of the ceiling lamp reflected off his shaven, bulbous scalp.

He nodded to one room on the right, and they looked through the plated window at the room. It was around the size of a large dining room. Full of what Toby now considered standard seating, but not much else in the way of furniture.

At first, Toby thought the room looked quite bleak and unfriendly, but he noticed the patients. They simply sat, motionless most of them. Oblivious of the world others wanted them to see, but happy in their own little world.

‘And others just need a break from it all,’ Eric said, pointing to one of the windows on the left.

Toby could see out onto the front of the house. He witnessed some patients strolling about the gardens – like people walking in a park on a Sunday afternoon. He smiled to himself. He had expected this to be one of those ‘take a handful of pills and don’t bother me’ places. But they were accommodating the patients.

As they moved across the main entrance, the two were stopped by a brash looking nurse. She was a heavily built woman who stood around five-seven in height. She had silver-grey hair with strands of the original red colour left. Her eyes were blue – at least from what Toby could make out from the tiny, angry slits that glared at him.

‘You must be the new lad, I take it?’ she inquired. Her gaze was deep, almost venomous. There was something about her that reminded Toby of his school nurse. An evil woman that didn’t care much for snivelling wimps. Unless there was considerable blood flow or loss of a limb, you were deemed fit.

Toby shuddered at the sudden memory of her.

‘Yes, ma’am, Toby Washington, pleased to meet you,’ he said, stretching a hand.

The nurse just gave him a once over and snorted before walking off.

‘Well, that was Nurse Hawthorn … lovely lady, great bedside manner.’ Eric laughed.

Toby stood motionless, shocked at the encounter.

‘She’s been here forever. In fact, she worked here when it first opened they say – as a hospital, not the hall that it was two-hundred years ago, but then you never know.’ Eric laughed again and gave Toby a friendly punch to the shoulder. ‘Right, now that excitement’s over.’

Toby looked over to his left and saw a door that seemed to lead to another part of the building. The door was solid and without windows, almost as if someone were sending a message that the door should never be opened or there was a corridor which should never be entered.

Toby was intrigued. Like a child told he that he couldn’t do something. Like that primal naughty feeling, everyone had in the back of their minds when they saw a sign saying: DO NOT WALK ON THE GRASS.

‘What’s in there?’ he asked, nodding in the direction of the door.

‘Nuffin for you to worry about matey … alright,’ Eric said with a low growl.

‘Yeah – OK, no problem man. Jeez,’ Toby replied, standing back. But the warning just made him even more curious about what was behind that door. They pressed on.

Next, Eric showed Toby the dispensary, then the TV room and, most importantly, the breakroom.

‘Shit,’ Eric said suddenly, looking down at his watch. ‘He’s gonna bloody kill me.’ His voice was full of panic. ‘Look, you stay here and make sure everyone is alright, I gotta … never mind. I’ll be back soon. Just – I dunno, watch V or somethin’,’ Eric mumbled, looking at his watch again.

‘OK, no problem, man; you go ahead, do what ya gotta do,’ Toby shrugged.

‘Awesome,’ Eric said, giving him a smile and a thumbs up.

Toby watched as he scampered across the lobby and headed towards the door. His eyes narrowed as he watched Eric unlock the door with a key from his pocket and swung it wide as he entered in haste. Toby smiled as he noticed the door closed slowly on the automatic shutter. Eric’s mistake had given Toby a chance to feed his curiosity.

He launched forwards and headed towards the door, dodging patients as he went. Just as it was closing, his hand shot into the gap and stopped the heavy door from closing. He smiled and held the door open enough to allow himself to squeeze inside.

There was a long dimly lit corridor with windows on the right side and blank-white walls on the left. It felt cold and unwelcoming, unlike the rest of the clinic. At the end was a small room with a long window. As Toby grew near, he could see two people inside. Both sat at a U-shaped desk full of monitors.

Next to the room was another door, this one made from thick metal; it had re-enforced glass and a lock made for a key. From what he could determine, this led to another section of the building.

A secure wing?

As he headed towards the door, the two women looked up briefly at Toby, who nodded a greeting. They nodded back and got back to the television series they’d been watching on a small TV.

He looked at the door and groaned with irritation. He didn’t have a key. Hell, he shouldn’t be here in the first place.

He couldn’t ask the two to open the door, that would be suspicious; besides, that would lead to the question of how did he get there in the first place? Toby went to turn around and leave. He had no plan on what to do next. The thought of losing his job before he had even started suddenly became a scary reality.

There was a click and the door in front opened. A nurse struggled to make it through the door, her arms stacked full of blankets. Toby rushed forwards and held the door open and smiled as she thanked him. As he watched her walk away, he slipped inside the next corridor, then turned quickly as he heard the bolt click shut behind. ‘Shit,’ he cursed softly, seeing there was no handle and it was key-access only.

‘Oh, fucking great.’ He swore at his stupidity. In his haste to get in he hadn’t checked that he could get out. Cursing himself once again, he turned to face this new part of the building.

The new corridor was shorter than the last, with a turn to the left at the end. The lighting was bad – none of the overhead lights being on in the daylight – but some murky light came through the windows.

Cautiously, Toby made his way down the corridor. He moved slowly. Not so much that if someone came around the corner, he would draw attention to himself, but enough to not rush into God knew what at that darkened corner.

Near the end of the corridor, Toby stopped. He took a deep breath and walked casually around the corner, working on the old idea, if you look like you are meant to be there, people will think you are meant to be there.

The adjoining corridor was just as dimly lit, but had more windows. These were arched, the old wooden frames exchanged for hard plastic, the glass thick and shatterproof. The three windows looked out on the rear of the house and the other gardens. Also in view were the orchards, the vegetable patch – the massive stone wall.

At one of the windows stood a young woman in casual nightwear: grey shorts and t-shirt. She had her back to him, still and silent like a statue or store mannequin.

‘Hi, are you OK there?’ Toby asked in an almost whisper, fearing that Eric – or worse, one of the doctors – would catch him there.

The strange woman didn’t move. She said nothing, just continued to stare out the window.

‘You shouldn’t be here, you know,’ Toby said, afraid she had become lost and had somehow gotten herself locked in this strange wing, just like he had.

But the difference being, he had done it on purpose.

‘I shouldn’t? Strange … where should I be then?’ Her voice was like silk.

Toby went to walk towards her but stopped on his heels as she turned to look at him. He froze with horror as all he could see was the mask. A pale white Venetian masquerade mask, with red lips and long painted lashes.

He felt her eyes upon him. They were warm and caring, not fitting with her demeanour. He had expected cold lifeless eyes or even ones that held a psychotic blood lust – but not these. He felt himself staring into those large blue pools of emotion – lost in her ocular grasp, like she were a silent siren from Greek mythology. Instead of a haunting song, she enchanted him with a captivating stare. His mouth fell open but he didn’t know what to say. Hello probably, but he was lost, transfixed by those blue orbs.

A large hand slapped his shoulder, making him yelp in panic. The woman with the mask giggled like a little girl, then shot back into her room on the left.

‘Bye, strange man, glad to have met you,’ she said before closing the door.

Toby turned to see Eric. He wasn’t angry. No, something else gripped him: shock.

‘Sorry, Eric, I know I’m in shit, but I can explain,’ Toby started.

Eric shook his head and looked down at him. His face was still filled with bewilderment. ‘Man, you have no idea how much shit you’re in,’ he said. Then he smiled broadly and pulled the small American towards him in a shoulder hug and laughed. ‘Yep, you have no friggin’ idea. You poor bastard.’

CHAPTERFOUR

Professor Albert Hicks sat in his office and sipped brandy from a crystal snifter.

He was a short heavy-built man with a straight back which pushed out his broad shoulders, even as he sat. His mousey hair was styled with a side parting and had signs of once being blonde, but age had taken a bitter toll. A handsome man in an aged sort of way, but he didn’t dwell on it, or use it.

He had money that could do the same job as good looks, without the extra effort.

The room was dark except for the light from the computer monitor. The room was bathed in a flickering blue light. A headache had forced him to take an aspirin and block out the menacing natural illumination by closing the long velvet drapes.

Nurse Hawthorn sat in a chesterfield armchair opposite him. Even with her bathed in shadow, with only her outline visible, her bulky frame and bun made for an unmistakable silhouette.

‘The new lad, Toby Washington, what do you make of him?’ Hicks asked, sitting back in his chair, causing it to creak with age. His voice was stern and rang with authority. He had been brought up to show he was better than anyone else. That others were beneath him, he was the lord and master. His tone oozed with arrogance and self-worth.

They had both watched the footage from the corridor camera – and had seen that the patient had conversed with the new man.

‘He’s an outsider,’ she replied. Her words were cold and hard.

‘True, maybe that is what makes him different. But that doesn’t answer my question: what do you think of him?’ Hicks asked again. He leaned forward, the light from the monitor illuminating his face, showing his features more clearly.

‘I don’t care much for him. Personally, he’s too⁠—,’

‘American?’ Hicks laughed.

‘I was going to say too good-looking; he’ll be a distraction,’ Nurse Hawthorn growled, crossing her arms across her chest the best she could. Her short thick arms struggled to meet past the ample cleavage.

‘A distraction for whom? You or the other nurses?’ Hicks said with an evil grin.

‘The other nurses, of course. Half of them are fresh out of medical school, young things like that, well … you know?’ she huffed.

‘I think he can be trusted, but if not – well, things do happen out in the country. It can be a dangerous place.’ Hicks sat back and rocked in his chair. ‘Tell Eric to brief him. However, I want Eric to film Melanie and Toby together. I want to know how they interact.’

Nurse Hawthorn stood up and brushed her uniform back into place. ‘And as for the other matter … they’re asking questions.’ Nurse Hawthorn’s voice was low and gravelly.

‘Don’t worry, it’s all in hand,’ Hicks said.

She nodded before turning and heading for the door. Leaving Hicks to ponder his next move.

Toby waited in a small room at the end of the corridor. From what he could make out, it was a staff room for those allowed access to that area. It was long, around ten-by-twelve feet. The breakroom had little in the way of furnishings. There was an old metal desk which faced the door, a heavy-looking thing with a grey melamine top, and metal draws for storage. The computer chair was old, the blue fabric worn and one of the arms missing. A phone and a computer sat on the desk. Both were old, but only by a few years. The computer, of course, had one crucial feature: internet access.

In the back right-hand corner of the room was a fridge, which was next to a small sink. This was for the staff to store their meals for the day or the night shift. Next to the refrigerator was a long table which held a coffee machine, a kettle, a selection of mugs and a microwave. On the wall opposite the sofa was a small flatscreen television. It too was old, but functional.

All the comforts of home.

Along the right-hand wall was a sofa which seemed long enough for a person of six-foot to stretch out on comfortably. The blue fabric was worn and held together in places by heavy visible stitches. Large cushions lay at both corners, ready to be used as pillows at a moment’s notice.

Eric had told Toby to wait in the room and not to leave – on that, Eric was most insistent. Toby wandered about the room like a scolded child waiting for the headmaster to dish out punishment. He spent some time sitting, then wandered about in circles. Then he sat again, his hands rubbing his thighs until his palms hurt. Then, he would repeat the process – each time looking at the coffee machine.

Toby was thirsty. His panicked state had left his mouth dry, but he wasn’t sure whether this would bring him more trouble. After all, this wasn’t his ward. A long debate with himself led to the conclusion that he was already screwed, so Toby helped himself to a coffee.

‘Fuck it,’ he thought, taking the largest cup he could find and filling it.

Toby returned to the sofa, sipping his coffee as he went. It was surprisingly good coffee. He took a seat on the firm cushion and continued his defiant drinking while he awaited his fate. As he sat in the soft-cushioned seat, Toby couldn’t help but wonder who the young woman was and why she was there.

The door opened and Toby turned to face whoever had just entered. Eric’s vast bulk filled the doorway.

‘Right then, ya fukka, come with me,’ he said with a curious look on his face.

‘Where are we going?’ Toby asked sheepishly.

‘It looks like your little stunt in the corridor got you into the club,’ Eric laughed.

‘What club’s that?’ Toby asked nervously.

‘The special ward club, so special it don’t exist, so keep ya gob shut about it, got it?’ Eric said angrily and suddenly, glaring at Toby.

‘Yeah, yeah, sure … it don’t exist, got it,’ Toby said, backing off. He felt his heart racing in his chest. What the hell had he gotten into here?

He followed Eric back to the girl’s room, both silent the whole time, Toby out of fear and suspicion, Eric because he simply had nothing to say. They stopped and Eric stood opposite the door Toby had seen the woman go into. Toby leaned against the white wall and felt the cold of the brick through his blue scrubs. Causing him to shiver slightly.

Or was it the feeling of unease because he had no idea why they had come back to her room … or what the professor had conjured up for him in way of punishment?

Eric slumped against the wall opposite the woman’s door.

‘This one is Melanie. She’s been here a long time. To be honest, she isn’t officially here – a pet project of the professor’s or summat, dunno, I don’t ask,’ Eric said. His tone was cold, as if trying to sound unattached. But Toby knew he was just covering his backside. ‘We have to hide her away when there is an inspection, but they don’t know about this wing anyways.’ He laughed as though they had won one over the system. ‘Bloody nosey buggers at the health department. Shit, if they knew she was here and how long she’d bin wiv us, none of us would be getting out of nick.’

Toby stood, shocked at the revelation. But what could he do? He was now apart of it.

Why the hell did he have to be so fuckin’ inquisitive? Asshole, Toby thought, but kept his thoughts and emotions to himself.

Now he was the one under observation. Seeming unaffected by what Eric had said, Toby looked at the girl through the small window in her door.

The room was a sterile white with a blue-grey laminate floor. There was a bed, a side table, and a dresser. Directly in front of the door was a large window which allowed a stream of sunlight into the room. Toby couldn’t see that much out of the window from where he stood, just a big blue blur due to the bright afternoon sun. But he guessed she had a view of the front grounds and driveway.

A thickly padded red-velvet armchair faced the window, next to which was a square table, a simple three-foot square thing, found mostly in school dining rooms. On the cream-coloured melamine top was a bottle of water and a stack of books. There were more books on the small bookshelf, which seemed to overflow with reading material. Beside that were more stacked books due to a lack of space on the shelving. Then Toby’s gaze fell onto the bed. It looked all the other beds there – except for the padded board which covered the bottom gap. Making it impossible for anyone to go underneath.

Toby figured one of the patients had disappeared under the bed once and attacked one of the orderlies when they checked on the patient. At med school, Toby’s teacher had told the class that people in institutions weren’t crazy; they had a different level of intelligence and insight into the world. The teacher soon changed that theory after one of the misunderstood people tried to strangle him with his bare hands. All because he thought the professor was a green man from planet Vultex. However, some of what the teacher had said made sense for most of the patients, or the misunderstood anyway. They were in their worlds and had their level of intelligence.

‘Why is she here?’ Toby asked inquisitively, his eyes transfixed on this strange young woman in her grey pyjamas and pink slippers.

She had long blonde hair, but her face was obscured by the haunting mask. It was a full-faced Venetian Volto mask, the kind they used in the old days at masked balls. The face was a ghostly white with ruby red lips. The eyes were dark painted sockets with long painted lashes beneath extended, painted eyebrows, and the high cheekbones had tints of pale red and purple.

‘Self-harm issues?’ Toby asked.

Eric shook that massive head. ‘You ain’t ever seen anything like this bollocks … I can tell you.’ He pulled Toby away from the door, as if he was worried the woman would hear. ‘She was brought in when she was twelve years old. She kept on telling everyone she was going to kill the family and she was going to enjoy it. So, naturally, the dad picks up the poor little thing and brings her here. But I tell you, back in them days, this place wasn’t like this; the patients just wandered around … not like today.’

‘So, was she was raped?’ Toby queried as if he understood. Then he looked up at the big man who was shaking his head, fear screaming through his eyes.

‘Apparently, one guy tried … she made sure he never did it again,’ Eric said, his eyes wide with horror.

‘OK, so she stabbed the guy. I probably would have done the same, I guess,’ Toby surmised.

‘Nah, the guy pulled out his thing and stuck it into her mouth,’ Eric winced. A cold shiver evidently ran down his spine at the thought of the story.

Toby just stood open-mouthed, a look of disbelief on his face. ‘How old was she when it happened?’ Toby finally asked, his gaze fixed on the innocent-looking woman.

‘Ten. Nasty little bitch bit that thing off and spat it back at him. Danced around after, laughing and saying what she always says,’ Eric explained.

‘And what’s that … what does she always say?’ Toby switched his gaze back to Eric.

‘They are going to die, and I’m going to take pleasure in it,’ came the voice of an angel from the room.

‘Jesus,’ both men yelped and jumped back to see the masked girl staring back at them through the small window in the door.

Melanie turned and walked back to the chair that faced the window and sat. As Toby listened, he could hear her hum a tune. One he’d never heard before – or, at least didn’t recognise.

‘You OK?’ Eric asked. Standing up straight as though she hadn’t shocked him.

‘Yeah, fine. May need some new shorts though,’ Toby laughed, making Eric smile.

‘Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place.’ Eric gave Toby a friendly punch to the shoulder.

As the two men left, Melanie stopped humming and stared at the door. ‘Nearly time now, nearly time to make them pay,’ Melanie said, rocking in her chair.

CHAPTERFIVE

It was all over the ten o’clock evening news. The family killer had struck again.

The police had no witnesses; forensics had come up empty as well. Whoever was doing this had done their homework. The only prints found at the scene were the victims’ and their friends’. They had discovered latex residue in the other cases, meaning the killer wore gloves.

Mrs Evelyn Baxter, a widow from the house next door, had discovered bodies.

She’d let her pet dog out to play with the family’s kids like she did every day. It had never trailed mud or anything back to her home before. However, this time when it returned, the dog had walked in with what she had thought to be red paint all over the kitchen floor.

Of course, Mrs Baxter had gone around to complain. At 8:32 p.m., she was found screaming in the street by passers-by. At 8:34, the school kids had called the police, or at least one of them had. The others stood on the small front lawn, throwing up. At 8:50, the police arrived in force – three squad cars, the DI and his DS and a couple of ambulances for the shocked victims. The local doctor was en route, and so was the pathologist. By 9:00, it was a media circus.

Paparazzi stood with their big heavy cameras equipped with telephoto lenses that were perched on tripods. The TV film crews, with their media trucks and cameras, were getting set up, while the news reporters used makeup to hide their bad complexions from the world.

The circus had officially arrived.

The ten o’clock evening news reported on the latest victims of Britain’s deadliest serial killer. The killer always chose a family – more specifically, one with a wife and one daughter. The males of the family were unimportant, or so it seemed. It was always the wife and the daughter that were the killer’s primary targets. The victims were always of the same age range.

This time, it was the Thomas family on a small housing estate in the town of Farnbrook. Farnbrook was a small town just off the A1(M) near Hopperton. Farnbrook had supermarkets, a town hall, a small industrial estate, a church with an alarmingly large graveyard – most of which was due to two World Wars and the Black Death. It had a local pub and off-licence, a post office and a cinema.

And a large police station was in charge of most of the area of North Yorkshire.

The killer’s latest victims had been forty-two-year-old Christina Thomas. She had been the mother of Tibbey Thomas, the eighteen-year-old daughter. Both women had had short blonde hair, blue eyes, and an athletic build. The father, Ray Thomas, had been forty-four with brown hair and hazelnut eyes, their son Andy had been the spitting image of Ray.

But the killer didn’t care about the males.

Never did.

The killer’s type had had always been the same: a mother and daughter, blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic build. The mothers were always in their the early forties and the daughter around eighteen years old. The killer had taken his time with the women. They had died slowly and painfully. Tortured, raped and butchered. The men had simply been killed and tossed into a corner.

But the press didn’t get that information. All they knew was another family had been murdered while they slept. Which was also another lie for the media to mislead copycats.

The victims had been very much awake.

Detective Inspector Richard Platt was a tall, stocky man, with black greying hair that looked as if it had never seen a hairdresser or a comb. His skin was pale and clammy, as though he had never spent much time in the sun. Platt was in his mid-forties, a career copper for sure. He had sailed through the ranks to the disgust of other higher-ranking officers, who’d had friends nudged to the wayside because of him. But the powers that be loved him. Some said he had a sixth sense when it came to crime. Platt closed cases, and that made him – for a time – bulletproof.

But that had changed. Platt used to be smartly dressed; he used to have a presence about him. But now he was a broken man, and there were whispers that this would be his last case.

Platt had become an embracement to the force. His poster boy image was gone – and so too was his career. Platt was a troubled man. The last couple of years had not been kind, but the job – this case – was all that he had.

Detective Sergeant David Elford, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was younger by at least ten years with a tall, athletic frame. He had a natural tan and a healthy look about him. His suit was brown with a cheap look to it, meaning he was used to doing all the heavy lifting while his boss did all the thinking. But Elford didn’t mind. Platt was an excellent detective. They had both been assigned to the task force, picking up where others had failed. Unusually, Platt and Elford had been on the previous task force as hands-on-deck detectives. But the old team leader quit after an incident involving the team.

And Platt, being the only DI available, was thrown in to take up the slack.

The Thomas house had been cordoned off, cutting off access to the road near the scene. Platt wasn’t bothered whether it was an inconvenience to the locals or nosey passers-by. It was a crime scene, not a damned attraction at some theme park. The press was set up behind one of the barriers. Camera flashes flickered like a New Year’s Eve firework display. The news reports announced the latest tragedy to the world. Platt stood outside with Elford while they waited for CSI to do their tests.