‘And so, the investigation for Angela Dorie remains open. For now, we don’t have a lead on what has happened.’
The crisp static from my old boxy television filled the living room with vague details about a woman gone missing in my town. Honestly, I didn’t care much. It wasn’t much of a mystery to me. People go missing all the time. What’s the big deal about one more? Perhaps that’s a bit crude a viewpoint and I apologise if it offends you. Still, it won’t change how I see things.
I kicked my feet up on the soft brown leather of my recliner chair. It was full of cracks and groaned under my weight. Still, the old girl had served me well so it was hard to feel angry.
With a beer, chilled and frothy, resting in my left hand, I adjusted to get comfy and watched the broadcast attentively.
‘Last seen on Dean Street, caught on camera walking through Fairbay public park, Angela Dorie hasn’t been seen nor heard from since the 28th of May.’
I scrunched up my face and a dreadful itching under my nose distracted me. That was fairly unnerving. Dean Street is not far from my home, just a few blocks away.
Her mother, or what I assumed to be her mother, appeared in the grainy footage with smudged makeup and teary eyes. She was shaking and could barely hold herself together.
‘My Angela is a good girl. She’s never home late and she never gets into trouble. I don’t know why she ran away. Please come home, baby. We miss you.’
Her voice begins to break and she hides her face behind a snotty tissue seen a bit too much use.
It cuts away from the broken mess of a woman and flicks back to the calm news reporter.
‘With such little information available, we can’t be sure what advice to give. For now, we suggest you stay in your homes and avoid contact with any suspicious strangers. Goodnight, Luton, stay safe.’
The broadcast drips out into a consuming darkness. The flare of the screen dies down and I’m left staring at my lonely reflection.
I sighed and groaned as I got up from the chair. The thick blue sky, bleeding into purple, told me it was time to call it a night.
I lived alone so I was in no rush to get off to bed. Before hiking the thin wooden stairs to my bedroom, I stepped into the kitchen and poured myself a cold glass of milk. Maybe that’s a bit childish for a grown man in his early thirties but it had always helped me drift off to a restful slumber, so I wasn’t going to stop this habit anytime soon.
I gulped down the liquid quickly. The smooth texture calmed my throat and nerves. Maybe the broadcast had shaken me up a little more than I’d like to admit. Wouldn’t you be on edge too if you had been told a young woman had gone missing just a few streets from your own home?
After finishing my beverage and tossing the glass in the sink, I took off up the creaky wooden stairs. The upstairs hall always unnerved me. Especially when the lights were off.
I looked now upon a stretching corridor, carpeted with beige and cast in shadow. There were no windows. Just three doors. On the left was my bathroom. On the right, closest to the stairs, was my bedroom and on the right, hidden away at the very back of the long passage, was a much older door I didn’t much open.
I shuffled quickly to my room, trying to ignore the chill creeping up my spine. There was nothing sinister or supernatural about my home, don’t get the wrong idea. It was just an old house. The kind that moves while you sleep, the kind that withholds ancient secrets. I didn’t mind that usually. I quite liked the prospect of staying under a roof that has seen more than I ever will in a hundred years. The only time I reconsidered that was when night began to creep through the walls, coating the carpets and furniture in awful shapes and sizes. It felt less like a home then and more like a trap bearing its fangs.
I slipped out of my clothes and slid into the single bed in the dreary corner of my bedroom. I could hear the light slap of rain against the glass of my windows. I could see projected shapes of branches on my walls, putting on a puppet show to lull me to sleep.
I looked at my ceiling, unable to find rest, and pondered if there would be any more disappearances. Was Angela Dorie going to be a single occurrence or would there be more like her? I feel a bit bad saying this but I kind of hoped she wouldn’t be the last. This was the first exciting thing that had happened in our forgotten town since I had been born. This was the first time I had something to fear.
…
I eventually found slumber and awoke when the sky bled into the day. It was easy to get up, my heart hadn’t stopped racing since the night prior.
Like a child on Christmas morning, I sprung from my sheets and peeled down the stairs. I turned on the old TV as quickly as it would load. I scanned through various news channels, looking to see if any new information about Angela Dorie had been published. Much to my dismay, it looked like the trail had gone cold for now.
With the case finding a place to sit in my heart, it made it very difficult to let go. I wanted to find out more and I wanted to do it quickly. With my passion ignited, I decided I would take a walk down to Fairbay public park, the place where Angela Dorie had last been seen.
Throwing an old jacket over my shoulders, I left the house with a passion I hadn’t felt since I was young.
While breezing along the streets, I got to thinking about something. When this case first appeared on my TV the night before, I could give less of a damn what it was about. Now, though, I had every reason to explore this. I wanted to see where this would lead. I wanted to know what the police did, I wanted to know what the public did, I wanted to know every little detail there was to know.
I looked at the houses as I strolled past them. They followed a theme. Like the buildings themselves were dressing up for Halloween, they were costumed in dark curtains, no lights and no sign of life. Not only that but the streets were empty too, no dog walkers, no cyclists, no meth-addicted homeless people.
I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Were people so scared of one disappearance that they would cower away in their homes, not daring to set one foot off their property? I found it a little bit sad. Surely, if there was some foul play involved, the culprit would be clever enough not to strike in broad daylight, right?
I enjoyed my walk a fair amount. The silence was a nice change from the usual chaos of the world. No cars to disrupt my thinking, no teenagers causing havoc, just me and my thoughts. Only the song of the birds and that tapping of my boots kept me company. That was fine, though, I never have been one to enjoy other people’s company.
After passing through empty street after empty street, the scene begins to change. Little more life is breathed into the air as the ground beneath my feet shifts from cobbled pavement to trimmed park grass.
The tree furthest from me had gathered the attention of a few brave souls wandering out in the middle of the day. They huddled around in what I first assumed to be some cult meeting but upon getting closer, I realised it was a memorial. A memorial set to Angela Dorie. Some had their hands clasped in prayer, wishing Angela a safe return, some were weeping and some just stood solemnly.
To be truthful, I didn’t want to barge into the grieving entanglement and ask what was on my mind. That’s when my eyes fell upon a familiar man, huddled in a blanket on a bench a few meters away.
Although I didn’t much care for people, I had quite the talent for interacting with them. I don’t know whether it’s a skill or a talent but I’ve always been told I’m naturally charming. I don’t mean I got mindless compliments from my parents and grandparents just to lift my spirits, oh no, I mean I have been told by teachers and peers alike that I have a way with words.
With that in mind, I had no gripes about approaching the man on the bench and taking a seat next to him. I couldn’t tell exactly where I had seen him before, just that I recognised his face. Though, if he was homeless and taking up residence on a park bench, it would make sense that I had seen him in passing one or two times.
‘Good morning.’ I turned to face him, giving him a warm smile and extending my hand to be shaken.
He googled at my palm with caution. He didn’t end up taking it but he did engage me in pleasant conversation. ‘Mornin’.’
I gave him a polite nod and lowered my hand. Looking at the congregation of grieving people, I saddened my expression. ‘It’s terrible what happened, don’t you think?’
‘Guess so.’
‘She was just a young girl. She had her whole life ahead of her.’ I shook my head.
‘Pretty sad.’
‘You don’t seem very engaged, is everything okay?’
He chuckled and I could hear the years of smoking escape his lungs.
‘Engaged? Why would I be? She ain’t coming back.’
My blood ran like ice. Honestly, it caught me off guard. I tried to sound polite and not like I was pressing him but that turned out to be harder than it looks. ‘What do you mean?’
He looked at me, flashing his yellow teeth and crazy eyes. ‘Brother, she’s dead.’
I swallowed. ‘How do you-‘
‘Been on the streets for years. You see things when you’re out here all day and night.’ He leaned back, looking at the dead sky.
‘Hold on, do you know something the police don’t?’
‘Hell yeah, I do. I got all the juicy information.’
I narrowed my eyes, staring at him warily. ‘Tell me.’
‘You think I’d give that kind of thing up for free? Nah man, sorry.’ He shifts a bit, then turns with a bit of a plea in his voice. ‘Tell you what, I’m dying for a ciggy. Lend me a puff and I’ll tell you.’
‘A ciggy?’
‘Yeah, like a cigarette.’
‘Oh,’ I tapped my pockets, even though I knew there were none there. I don’t smoke and I never have. ‘I don’t have one on me.’
He exhales and folds his arms. ‘Well, that’s a bummer. Guess you won’t be getting your information.’
‘Wait!’ I called with a bit too much excitement. ‘I can run to the shops and get you some. If I do that, will you tell me?’
He itches his scraggly beard. ‘Cigs are no use without a way to light ‘em, sorry.’
I sighed. ‘A lighter too, then. A box of cigarettes and a lighter.’
He grabbed my hand suddenly, almost making me jump, and shook it with vigour. ‘You got yourself a deal!’
‘Alright,’ I stood up and wiped my hands on my jeans. ‘I’ll be ten minutes max, don’t go anywhere.’ I sped and walked away, racing to the nearest store without looking desperate.
As I hurried away, I could hear the homeless man call after me with cheer. ‘Don’t worry, I got nowhere else to go!’ He cackles like a witch.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to get somewhere quickly without looking like a total jag. If you have, then you’ll know how hard it is to keep a brisk pace while maintaining an appearance of normality. It didn’t matter much, though. As mentioned before, the streets were empty and they still were now.
I arrived at the nearest shop, an off-license corner store built into the side of a block of flats. We have a lot of them in the UK so it was beyond easy to find one. If I had to compare it to something, I would say it’s the equivalent of US seven eleven.
I got inside and tried not to seem like I was going through withdrawal while I asked simply for a box of cigarettes and a lighter. The cashier was a young boy, probably just leaving college. He looked at me and rang up my purchase.
‘£12.55 please.’
I brought out my wallet and frowned. ‘Are you sure? That seems expensive.’
‘It’s an expensive habit.’ He shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the cigarettes.
I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes. If this was the price everyone was paying to smoke, no wonder the man was homeless. Eventually, I relented. £12.55 was a small price to pay for some possibly valuable insight on the case I had become so transfixed with.
I got the goods and hurried back to the park. I hadn’t been long but the thought that the homeless man may have picked up and left planted the seeds of anxiety. Thankfully, I scurried back quickly and the man was still there, huddled in his grey blanket.
I sat down by him, shaking the plastic bag and grinning.
‘Guess what I got.’
He looked at me with thin eyes. ‘You did it?’ He took the bag and tore into the plastic, taking out his fix and smiling wide. ‘You’re a good fellow. Not many would do something so kind for people like me.’
I smiled. The flattery did feel quite nice, even if it was only slight.
The homeless man became defensive once more, shielding his voice in vocal armour. ‘I don’t get it. What’s so interesting about this case that you’d take a lead from a hobo?’
‘Hm?’ I raised an eyebrow.
‘I could have scammed you. What if I don’t know anything and I’ve just tricked you into buying me cigs?’
I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I didn’t. I sat still and stared at him seriously, just waiting for him to go on.
‘Right,’ He said with a bit of unease in his voice. ‘I guess you want to know what I saw, huh?’
‘Yeah!’ I loosened my expression and grinned. ‘That would be great, thank you.’
‘Hm, alright.’ He shifted back, getting comfy on the bench. ‘It was about a week ago now. I was here, where I usually am. It was heavily raining and it was getting dark. No one was about, everyone had already retreated to their homes for the night. All except her. She was walking by with her hood pulled tightly to her head. She wasn’t equipped for the weather, wearing heels and a tight dress with only a thin jacket to protect her from the downpour. Lucky lass must have been coming back from a date.’ His expression soured a bit and he looked at his feet.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked him with a little more urgency than I would have liked.
‘Nothin’, just thinking about it makes me feel a bit guilty, you know?’ He shook his head and continued. ‘Nevermind that. It’s not what you want to hear about. Anyway, she was coming down the path to the edge of the park, getting assaulted by rain with every step she took. Then, when she reached the car park at the far end, she stopped. She stopped and was engaged in conversation. It was a man, tall and dressed in all black. I couldn’t see his face as his back was to me but I could tell he was in the middle of trying to persuade the girl. He pointed to his car, sitting alone in the corner of the lot, then he pointed at her. She didn’t move for a bit. Eventually, though, she nodded. She nodded and followed the man to his car. I think you can put the rest of the pieces in place yourself.’
I felt like a statue, unable to move. ‘So…’ I wiped my brow. ‘you think she was kidnapped?’
‘Killed, more likely.’
I sat back and cleared my throat. ‘Come on now, that seems extremely far-fetched. Were you maybe drunk at the time?’
He shook his head, not taking any offence to the question. ‘I was sober as a clear bottle. I know what I saw.’
‘Well, it was dark too. Maybe you misread the situation?’
‘It’s possible. I was thinking that myself. It’s why I haven’t brought it to the police yet.’
‘So you haven’t told anyone?’
‘Just you.’
‘Hm,’ I put a finger to my lips in thought. ‘I see. If I were you, I’d keep it to myself until more information comes out. Who knows, maybe she’ll show up on her own.’ I got up and gave the man a polite smile.
He half-smiled back. ‘You think I’m crazy, huh?’
I tried not to scowl at him. ‘A little bit.’
He exhaled with amusement. ‘Go figures. I’ll be the one laughing when you get killed next.’
I didn’t like the way he worded that. It didn’t feel like he was lying. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just sat next to the culprit. Although, I laughed as soon as the thought crossed my mind. It was ridiculous.
The walk home didn’t quite feel as joyous. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. Perhaps I had dug a little too deep into this case and now I was in danger.
The deserted streets felt less peaceful now, they felt like the centre of a spyglass. I felt like I was being watched from all angles, sized up and admired.
I ran home. I didn’t care about how strange I looked and I didn’t care about how sore my legs were. I shot through the front door and bolted it behind me. My heart was thumping. I destroyed my mind with questions. Had I locked all the windows? Had anyone seen me leave the park? Had someone seen where I stayed? I hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a glass with shaky hands and pouring a cool cup of milk down my throat. It didn’t calm me this time.
I took a painful amount of time to rush around my home, ensuring all windows were closed and locked, covering all with curtains and shutting off all the lights.
I was on the second floor, I had just finished checking my bedroom. I sped out to the hall, reaching for the next door but stopping when my palm touched the door knob.
This door. The one at the very end of the hall, hidden away on the right. The wood was old and failing. The handle was chilly to the touch. I let go slowly. Not yet. I still couldn’t open that door. Something kept me back.
Admittedly, I did feel a little better after running through the safety checks in my home. I took a seat in my recliner and stared at the grainy TV. It was an urgent broadcast, news like yesterday but this time it sent a brutal chill through me.
‘Police have just searched a condo on Alpine Road. After complaints from neighbours and mailmen about a rancid smell coming from the house, police were forced to conduct a welfare check. Inside they discovered the decaying body of 23-year-old Bethany Lial. She had been living alone and no one had heard from her in a series of weeks. Bethany had been sexually abused before death with lacerations on her genitals and breasts. At this current time, officials have concluded that the young woman has been dead for a series of weeks. The culprit, as of now, remains unknown. We advise all residents to lock their doors and stay inside, avoiding all contact with other people.’
The TV shuts off and I am left with only static as my company. The nonchalant attitude I had kept at first was no longer possible to appease. This was real. I couldn’t avoid this any longer. What scared me more than anything else was the location. This was only a few streets down from me. These killings were becoming closer and closer to my home.
I didn’t enjoy myself much that night. I sat in a corner with my knees to my chest, listening to my home creak and groan. The old building mocked me, jeered at me and ridiculed me.
…
It was late and I was just about to head to bed when a tremendous thumping came to my door. I nearly jumped out of my skin, shooting through the roof like a firework of fright.
The banging on my door was rapid, insistent and frantic. It sounded like the person was trying to kick in my door, forcing their way inside. More than that, they were screaming. Kicking up a fuss about something I couldn’t make out.
I crawled over to the living room window, gingerly pulling back the curtain and starting at my front door. There, whisked in the hues of midnight, was a man, middle-aged, banging at my door and begging to be let in. He cried like a banshee, dragging his nails across the wood and banging his head against my house.
‘Please!’ He shrieked and stole a few glances behind him at the empty street. ‘You’ve got to let me in, he’s after me, man!’
I would be lying if I said I didn’t almost reach for the door to grant the man passage. There is something about hearing a human being scream, scream like their life is in danger. It triggers something deep within you, like a primal instinct just begging to take hold.
‘Who… who are you?’ I said instead, shuffling to the door and putting my eye on the peephole.
The man was smeared against the wood, his breath fogged the glass and made it impossible to see his face in detail.
‘Help me, please. He’s out here, I know he is.’ The man whimpered, still looking backwards into the empty street.
I grit my teeth. I knew already that the killer wasn’t out there but that didn’t mean the man was safe from danger. There very well could be something out there, pursuing him, stalking him.
Against my better judgement, I pulled back the bolt from my door, leaving it unlocked and pulling it open.
The man stared at me in disbelief, I don’t think he expected to be let in. Though, his astonishment didn’t persist. Almost instantly he pushed past me, shoving me back, rushing into my home and slamming the door shut.
I stared at him as the door was bolted shut. This was when I first realised I had made a mistake.
He panted wildly, his eyes darted around my living room like a wild animal’s.
‘Thank you.’ He managed through a glass voice.
I eyed up him and down, digesting his appearance carefully.
The man was young, early twenties at most with the aged features of a war veteran. It looked sort of uncanny, a sunken face that remained soft. He had dirty blonde hair and was dressed in all black.
‘Fuck, man.’ He put his hand on his heart and sunk to a sitting position against the front door.
I didn’t say anything. Just stared at him. I felt excited, my adrenaline was pushing past its natural limit and I could barely keep myself still.
‘Thanks so much.’ He clasped his hands in prayer and bowed his head at me.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Thomas.’
‘Last name?’
He stared at me for a long moment. The question must have seemed unnecessary to him. ‘It’s, uh, Greg.’
‘Your name is Thomas Greg?’ I felt a bit silly saying it. The name would sound fake even to a toddler.
‘Yeah…’ He dragged out the word.
From where I was standing, I could see out the window onto the street. There was no one there. No pursuer, no noise, no sign of life at all. ‘Say, who was chasing you?’
Thomas shrank into himself, twiddling his thumbs and clicking his tongue. ‘I think it might have been the guy who killed Angela Dorie.’
Killed? How did he know she had been killed? I wondered. The broadcast about Bethany had only been a few hours ago. Unless he just so happened to have the best timing in the world, there was no way he would know the disappearance was a murder. ‘What happened?’ I tried not to sound pressing but then again, he was now a guest in my home, I had a right to know why I was keeping him.
‘Well, I know I said it was a guy but I don’t think there was just one, you know?’ His voice broke towards the end of his sentence.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Well, I was… out for a bit and I was just coming home. I was a few streets away when I passed a bunch of guys on the side of the road. You know the type, the ones who go about in big groups? Carrying blades and shit?’
I nodded.
‘Right,’ He sniffed and went on, albeit with more hesitation. ‘I was walking by them and they were huddled around a car. I think they were trying to break into it. Making grunting sounds and that.’
I tapped my foot impatiently. ‘Can you get to the point?’
‘Sorry.’ Thomas looked down in shame. ‘They saw me staring at them and began to chase me. Yelling about how they were gonna stab me.’ He cleared his throat, indicating the end of his excuse.
I tried not to sound annoyed but I was. I could feel the tension constrict my chest. ‘That’s stupid. What made you link the disappearance of Angela Dorie to a bunch of thugs on the street?’
‘Well,’ He seemed embarrassed. ‘they said they were gonna stab me? Makes sense to me that they probably got her too.’
I loosened my expression and laughed. The guy wasn’t too bright. ‘Come, why don’t I get you a drink? We can talk some more.’ I gave him my hand and helped him to his feet.
He smiled for the first time since I had let him in. A triumphant kind of smile, like it was a game that he had just won.
…
We sat down at the kitchen table, I poured myself another glass of milk and Thomas had requested water.
‘So, what were you doing out so late anyway?’
Thomas shifted in his seat, he looked uncomfortable under my gaze. ‘Not much. Just… went for a walk.’
‘A walk? At this time?’ I raised an eyebrow. I was starting to find the young man suspicious but, of course, I didn’t want him to know that. ‘Don’t you have folks at home who might be worried?’
He gave a tiny laugh. ‘No, my parents have been dead for years.’
I gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Well, how about a partner?’
‘Nope.’ He sighed and took a sip of his drink. It was still nearly full.
‘Let me guess, no pets either?’
He shook his head sadly.
I don’t know why I smiled but I did. Not the kind of innocent smirk people do when they know they shouldn’t but rather a toothy grin.
Thomas took note of that, he looked to be a little uneasy. ‘Can I, uh, use your bathroom?’
I nodded politely. ‘Upstairs on the left.’
He stood up with an anxious wave. He was two steps away from his seat when I cut him off.
‘Thomas.’ My tone grew serious. ‘Do me a favour and don’t go snooping, okay?’
I could hear him swallow from across the room. I could almost feel the fear wilt from his slender frame.
I sat and sipped my milk. My eyes were closed and my ears were open, waiting for the inevitable sound. Sure enough, not a minute and a half later, a loud cry called to me from upstairs.
‘Well,’ I muttered to myself, standing up and grabbing a butchers knife from the rack, ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
The stairs begged me to stop as I climbed them. I could almost hear the voices telling me to stop, the hands of the long dead grabbed at my collar and tried to hold me back. It was useless, though, I had made up my mind.
There he was, at the end of the hall, staring into the room on the far right. Between his legs, running into my beige carpet, was a stream of urine.
Thomas barely had the time to glance at me when I shoved his little body against the wall and mashed the knife into his throat.
He stared at me with a look of voiceless horror, his eyes had been betrayed and his body had failed him.
One Thomas Greg lay a crumpled heap on my floor, I smiled. I smiled and I looked into the room on the right. Basking in the scene that had broken the young man’s mind.
The door that had remained shut for far too long had now been opened, my secret exposed. There, on the spare bed with no clothing, was the mildly decomposed body of Angela Dorie. Her genitals were decorated in deep cuts, her breasts left as a dinner for my blade.
She was pretty. Even in her grey and sunken state, it was hard to deny her looks. Perky boobs with a tight ass and a perfect hourglass shape. It was a nice surprise, the coat she was wearing the night I took her hid that precious detail from me. Maybe waiting out there, at the edge of the park in the deep bleakness of that night, paid off after all.
Angela wasn’t my first, oh no, that was Bethany. Beth was a treasure in herself. She was a little bit less appealing than Angela. Her breasts were smaller and she didn’t have much body mass to work with. Still, when I saw her enter her home that day, I knew I had to do something.
Although I enjoyed exploring Bethany, I found the experience a bit limiting. I knew next time that if I wanted to get the most out of a toy, I needed to bring it home.
I had only one more worry to take care of. People were starting to know a bit too much about my antics. The police had found Bethany and within a few weeks, it would be linked to Angela’s disappearance. Perhaps it’s time I move house. Maybe a place in the countryside with no people for miles. Yes, that sounds just perfect.
I was satisfied now, with my knife basking yet again in that sweet crimson mixture, I could set myself at ease for a few more weeks at least.
I did scowl at Thomas a bit. I hated that he was male. If only a lovely young woman had come banging at my door instead, I would have had so much more fun.