Chapter Twenty-Three
“How do you take it?” Mrs Reynolds asks Dawson as she drops a teabag into the mug.
“Black.” Their host obliges, pouring up to the brim. “Thanks.” she adds as she takes ownership.
“Are you sure you didn’t want one... Mr...”
“Detective Inspector Merrick.” he fills in. “And no thank you, I try to stick to just one coffee nowadays.” he half smiles.
“Very well, do let me know if you change your mind.” She directs them toward the squidgy floral sofa that dominates the living room.
“So, Mrs Reynolds -”
“Please, call me Sophia.” she interrupts, unveiling a tissue from her sleeve to daub her leaking eyes. She’s in a long summery dress and cream cardigan, aging flip-flops worn at the toes. Her hair is unkempt and straggly, indicative of the worry she’d been spiralling through recently.
“Very well.” Merrick admits. “What can you tell us about your son?”
“Lovely boy. Doesn’t always do as he is asked, like any other his age. I believe he has been trying to arrange another place to live, but I’m not sure if it was to move in with his girlfriend or not.”
“Ah yes, could you possibly give us her name?”
“Aimee Bryant.” she tells them. “Did go to the university, but I can’t remember why she’s no longer there. Matthew did tell me once.”
“How long have they been together?” Merrick then asks. Dawson’s eyes flit around the room as she sips at the tea, casting looks at the photographs showing her son at various ages.
“I’m not sure, at least six months I think.”
“Was everything alright between them? Any arguments, disagreements?”
Mrs. Reynolds thinks long and hard. “No more than any normal couple, I would say.” she says. “They seemed happy together, that much I can tell you.”
“Is there anyone you know of that might want to harm your son?” Merrick then asks, scribbling away at his notebook.
“Not at all. I don’t believe he has any enemies as such, and he hasn’t borrowed money from any shady individuals that I’m aware of.” she replies. Dawson turns a small snicker into a cough. “He has been working extremely hard recently and not seeing many of his friends, apart from Aimee.”
“Thank you, Sophia. I understand these questions may be upsetting, but they do need to be asked. We will endeavour to find your son, please be aware of that.” Mrs. Reynolds smiles softly and nods back at him.
“Has he ever disappeared for long periods of time before this instance?”
“No.” she swiftly responds.
Merrick continues to write. “Okay, thanks for helping us so far. Could you possibly confirm Miss Bryant’s address for me? I want to make sure that the one we have is the one you have.”
“I think it’s on Liberty Avenue, but I couldn’t tell you the number.” she admits. “I’m sorry.”
“Not a problem.” Merrick asserts. “You’ve helped us greatly today.”
“Thanks for the tea.” Dawson smiles at her. “Don’t get up, we’ll let ourselves out.”
“One question before we do go.” Merrick stops. “May I ask where your husband is?”
“Robert’s been dead for ten years, I’m afraid. That’s why Matt has been so reluctant to move out until now. He used to worry himself unduly about whether or not I’d be okay. I fear that Aimee has put paid to that.”
“Thank you for your time.” He stands.
“Thank you for coming to see me. Please find him.”
“We’ll let you know if there are any leads, Sophia.” Merrick nods at her.
***
Sera rips at the lump of bread, tearing a part of the crust off and tossing it into the river. Ducks swarm and fight, bickering over this morsel. She treats them again, throwing another chunk to a different gaggle. As she reaches for more, she notices a duck off to her left, floating limply on the surface of the water. Attentive, she stares at it, surprised that she has never seen a dead duck before. Looking back at those before her, she notices two more, swaying amidst the ebb of water. Then looking over to the last duck she fed, she realises that too has died.
Her fingers are still lingering over the loaf. Looking down, she is startled to see Solani’s face staring up at her from within the bread, eyes bright with fire. She screams and instinctively throws the remainder forward, landing with a thud in the water. The ducks quack with furious excitement, flocking on the meal as if it were their last. She quickly realises that there are no dead ducks before her, and the bread no longer harbours a demonic, grinning face.
Her mouth is agape, hand clasped to it in shock. A chill sweeps through her, and her forehead is suddenly clammy. Slapping both hands across her eyes, she stifles another scream and keeps back a tear. Looking back up at the river, she breathes long, trying to not let it beat her.
Then the first hand appears from the water, gripping onto the bank. With it comes a torrid complexion, replete with misshapen mouth and stitched eyes. Then another, creeping out from the water and sniffing like they always did. Sera is rooted to the spot. Her eyes cannot move, and she cannot blink. More slither out of the water, loping forth on all fours.
Then a bright orange glow emerges close to the centre of the pond. The water steams and bubbles, and dancing flames sway out from calm waves, steadily rising with each step forward. A burning man ascends from beneath, slowly coming her way. With him come more of the creatures from the veil of steam, their rotten teeth clacking and warped skin wet and glistening. A figment is just a few feet from her now. It knows she’s there, coiled fingers inching her way.
She jumps right out of her skin, screaming at the top of her lungs as a warm hand touches her shoulder.
“Woah! Easy woman!” Mike similarly jumps, lurching back a foot or two.
“Oh, it’s you!” she gasps, getting up to cuddle him tightly. Her bag, previously rested on her lap, collapses to the ground and scatters the contents. Holding him tightly, she can finally weep.
“What on earth is wrong?” Mike releases her and gazes into her eyes.
“Oh nothing, Mike. Honestly it’s nothing. I was lost in the moment, and didn’t expect to see anyone.” she smiles, stubbornly eradicating each tear.
“Look, you’ve managed to spill your bag.” Mike notices, hurrying to collect her things.
“It’s okay, I can do it.” she says, grabbing what she can.
Mike pauses, staring at the bottle of prescription pills he comes across. He looks at her, almost accusingly.
“Did you see something in the water? Is that why I scared you, and why you screamed twice before I got here?” he demands.
“No, of course not!” she scoffs, snatching the bottle and burying it deep inside her handbag. “I told you, boo boo, I was in the moment.” She quickly returns to the bench, tightly hugging the bag in her lap.
Mike takes his place beside her, leaving a little room between them. “You know I hate to keep on at you about this. But in the last month or so you’ve been conversing more with the visitors in our home. Now there are things freaking you out by the river? Come on Sera, you got these pills because you were starting to head the wrong way again.” Mike says, eager to hold her hand but staying clear, just for now.
“I’ve been taking them like a good little girl.” she tells him.
“I’ve checked that bottle every other day, and it doesn’t get any lighter.” he sighs. “Baby, please...”
Sera quickly gets up and storms away. “I don’t expect to see you tonight!” she barks, not looking back. “And if I hear you in the house, stay on the sofa!”
Mike sighs, and berates himself for not being tactful enough. He reaches into his pocket, brandishing a ring adorned with a crest of three glimmering diamonds. “Maybe later, then...” he mutters, returning it to the recesses of his pocket.
Unbeknownst to either of them on the far side of the river is Solani, wearing the widest grin he can muster.
***
Aimee writhes against Stu, working her shapely body into the frame he provides beneath her bed sheets. He moves his head a little to rest his chin upon her wavy hair.
“Something troubling you?” she asks.
“Not really.” he quickly retorts. “Just a little work trouble. Some upstart thinks he knows who’s boss.” She sinks deeper into him, pressing her body as tightly as possible into his. Her skin is red raw in places, daubed with his finger marks where she’s urged him to be fierce, even if at times it’s too uncomfortable for him. Similarly, his clavicle bears her teeth marks, and his back is marked with long vertical streaks.
“I love times like this.” she says. “I love cuddling up to you.” she smiles, unsure if that was the right word to use.
“Me too.” he responds, his face expressing a completely different emotion that goes unnoticed.
“Was that the front door?” she suddenly asks, raising her head. Stu sits up, listening out for any further noise.
“I don’t think I heard anything.” Aimee gets up, revealing that they’re both naked as she walks away with the sheet. Stu gazes at her bottom as she tightly wraps her slender body.
“I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere...” she purrs, leaving the bedroom and pushing the door back, leaving a small gap that looks out into the living room. She reaches the front door, and spies a man and woman outside, waiting patiently. “Who is it?” she calls through the door, continuing to watch them.
“Miss Bryant?” Merrick says, brandishing his badge and holding it up. “May we come in? It’s about your boyfriend, Matthew Reynolds.”
Shaking her head, Aimee unlocks the door and leads them in. Merrick examines the room around him, whereas Dawson is surprised by her attire.
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, we broke up.” she pauses. “What’s he done this time?” she sighs, rubbing her forehead after closing the door.
“He’s missing.” Merrick tells her, hands driven into his pockets. “Has been for a week or so.” Dawson circles the lounge, casually peering into the bedroom through the ajar door. She notices a naked man getting out of bed. She admires his lower body before lifting her eyes, but he’s out of sight before she can catch his face.
“We split up last week, roughly - he had become quite aggressive, and was hassling me. A friend talked him out of doing anything stupid and I’ve not seen him since. I had a parting text message, and that was it.”
“Was he aggressive, as you put it, on that occasion?” Merrick queries.
“Definitely. He nearly broke the arm of a guy that I was dancing with in a bar. I had real trouble calming him down but Stu sorted it for me.” Dawson’s eyes flip from scanning the room to look right across at Merrick. He’s already positing his next question.
“Your friend, this Stu. What’s his surname?” Aimee looks perplexed.
“Um, I don’t actually know. I only met him recently, and he was kind of seeing my best friend, but that didn’t work out. He’s here if you want to chat with him.” she adds, just as Stu opens the bedroom door. He’s dressed now, back in his traditional combo of jeans and a t-shirt. Dawson can’t believe it, the cynical grin upon her face difficult to conceal.
“Baltazar.” the DI nods, keeping his best cool head.
“Merrick.” Stu nods back. “Matt Reynolds, I understand?”
“Indeed.” Merrick replies. “From what Miss Bryant has just told me, you may be the last person to have seen him before he disappeared. Any idea on his whereabouts?” Dawson now has her arms folded, eagerly awaiting what he has to say.
“No, I watched him send Aimee a text message, then he stormed off. Seemed pretty pissed, even though I tried my best to calm him down.” Stu replies, his body language and inflections unable to provide the officers anything they can work with.
“What did you talk about?” Merrick asks.
Stu thinks for a moment. “I tried to reason with him, understand why he was so angry, but he just refused to discuss Ai-” He pauses, briefly. “Miss Bryant.”
“Did you threaten him?” Dawson pipes up.
“Not at all.” Stu immediately returns. “I may be well-built, but I’m not the threatening type.” he smiles, trying to ease her. Now she plays her best poker face.
“What happened after that?” Merrick then asks.
“We moved onto the Plasma Dome, just before the fire. I don’t know if Matt had anything to do with it, I didn’t see him in there.”
“Woah.” Merrick stops him. “There is no evidence that Mr. Reynolds, or anyone else for that matter, had anything to do with that incident. The official report states that faulty wiring was to blame. There was no foul play.” Merrick says.
“Okay, fair enough. It was just what I thought at the time.” Merrick looks over at Dawson. They exchange a knowing glance that neither feel they can get any further with their current enquiries.
“Alright, thanks Baltazar, Miss Bryant. If we have further questions for either of you we’ll be in touch.” Merrick nods.
“No problem.” she replies, ushering them out as Stu nods in reply. Turning around, Stu is upon her, holding her tightly. She doesn’t say anything, lingering on Stu’s comment that maybe Matt did have something to do with that terrible fire.
“Do you think it was Matt?” she coos.
“Like he said, a cause has already been found. I’m sure that wherever he is, he’s not coming back anytime soon.” Stu reassures, kissing the top of her head.
***
Merrick sits at the wheel of his police issue saloon, wringing his hands around the thick steering wheel. This case, and the contents of his journal, are starting to cloud his judgment. Is he paying too much attention to one thing, and being blinded by the truth? He spots Dawson approaching from ahead, sliding her notebook into an inside pocket. Merrick says nothing as she gets into the passenger side, waiting for her words. There’s an awkward silence.
“Boss, we need to have an honest talk.”
Merrick prepares himself. “What did you find out?” he asks, watching the students walk away in the opposite direction. “Do we have anything to go on?” Dawson looks down into her lap, still working on what she has to say. Merrick doesn’t press her, knowing what’s coming.
“Boss, those three students told me that Jodie Braddock was sexually assaulted a few days before she disappeared. A description of the perpetrator matches that of one Augustus Baltazar.” The silence between them makes an impromptu return.
“Okay.” he answers, looking across at her. “Tell me more.”
“Losing her sister tipped her over the edge. She started to lose interest in her studies. She started to go out every night, get drunk, and usually end up back here with a different guy. Her tryst with Baltazar changed that, and one girl thought it was a wake up call. However, she went out on a whim one last night, and she’s not been seen since.” Merrick processes the story.
“Do they know why she didn’t file a report?”
“They said she stopped him before it go too serious, but she knew where it was headed. Figured he was just drunk, wanted a pick up and it got too heated. He apparently apologised, if that means anything.”
“Do you think he found her out one night, and finished what he couldn’t the time before?”
“Definitely.”
“You seem quite certain of that.” Merrick notes. Dawson takes her time.
“I’ve tailed him. Just a few times.” Merrick shakes his head.
“Learning all of this, you needed to be a hell of a lot more careful. What if he saw you?”
“He never did. And it was seven or eight times. Nothing major.” she adds. “There’s been a lot of late night drinking, and a lot of staring into the Silenti.”
“I thought you said it was just a few times.”
Dawson launches back into her theory. “I think Baltazar killed Reynolds because he expressed some sort of interest in the girlfriend. Reynolds objected, maybe Baltazar made a pass at her, or said something, and it riled the guy. We did hear that he’s thrown himself more into work, perhaps he’s trying to put money together to move in with her, keep her close, that sort of thing?”
“Hmm, possibly.”
“Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but it looked like they’d been having some pretty rough sex when we interviewed them both. Baltazar and Bryant, that is.”
“Yes, I did see that.” Merrick answers. “But how does this tie into the other murders? Alice Thebos and Marvin Morton definitely, as he had motive. But what about the others?”
“I think it’s pretty sick of him to have revisited the scenes under your watch. He must have got a real boner over that.” Dawson immediately deflects. “Plus two victims were found just a short distance from his home.”
“He made a real mistake taking out two siblings. A huge mistake.” he mutters, spitting out his immediate thoughts. “I need to sleep on this. Formulate our plan, then grab him.” Dawson is shocked at first, but quickly understands the conflict bubbling within him. He continues. “I might go for a game of squash. In fact, I need you to do one thing, and you need to get it done tonight.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Find out what properties Baltazar owns, or where he frequents. He started to maim people, then they started to disappear. Where are those bodies? I would rather we had a foothold, try to squeeze him if we can.”
“I’m on it, boss.” Dawson replies. After another pause, she adds: “I’m really sorry that he played you.” Merrick stares at his reflected eyes in the rear view mirror, now comprehending that the last year has truly ruined him.
“Don’t be, it’s not your fuck up.” he replies, turning back to her again. “I’ll drop you back at the station, I’m going to need a long sleep before tomorrow.” Dawson, happy now Merrick has seen what she always has, secretly punches the air at her side with unremitting glee.
***
Jenny nods repeatedly at Aimee’s voice from the telephone, not really engaging with the words she’s hearing. She stares at herself longingly in her tall mirror, examining the eyes usually more vibrant and engaging than this. Something is wrong with her, and has been for a while. She then feels the urge to stroke the searing pain in her left arm, but it always stops right before she retaliates.
“I’m sorry, what?” she blurts, half catching the conversation.
“Which bit?” Aimee replies.
“I swear you just said you were fucking Stu.” Jenny says.
“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” comes the sheepish reply after a brief pause. “I said that Matt is missing, but Stu was with me when I heard.”
“Oh, really sorry. I can’t have been listening very well.” Jenny replies.
“Everything alright?” Aimee asks, taken aback by such an unusual admission from her friend. Jenny is always listening, always thinking. Plus she never swears, it’s so out of character for her. Something really must be up.
“I really don’t know.” Jenny replies, looking down at her other arm. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she whispers.
“Say again?” Aimee asks, not having heard a word of that.
“Has he been missing since we saw him at the club?” is Jenny’s next question.
“Yea, Stu seems to be the last one to have seen him alive.”
“Curious.” Jenny responds, suddenly smiling to herself. “Do tell me more.”
***
Merrick is at home, seemingly for the first time in a very long while. He gradually paces between rooms, chewing on a flaking sausage roll that has shed most of the skin down his shirt. His jaw rotates automatically, his mind preoccupied with the point he’s reached.
Papers are strewn across a coffee table, across the dining table, even scattered on the floor of his study. All of those notes are ignored, because the most important book to him is on the bed, where he’s spent the last couple of hours staring at the ceiling. Why did both cases have to come to a head at the same time? Has one truly suffered for his ignorance, whilst the other has blossomed out of control?
His next move is critical. It has to be the right one, otherwise all of the planning and evidence gathering from nearly ten months will amount to nothing. He hastily shies away from the journal, knowing that this can’t infringe on his work with Dawson.
His clothes are still too big for him, and they float over him like a collapsed tent. This last year led to breakdowns with not just his wife, but also his entire workforce. He stopped sleeping. He hardly ate. Weight dripped off of him from the stress of what he discovered, what he knew, what he has to confront.
But this case against Stu has just snowballed into a behemoth. He trusted the guy, leant on him for support amidst investigations he could not begin to understand. Stu has some sort of ability, some kind of power, but he’s crossed the line. Hurting innocent people for his own sport is truly unacceptable. All Merrick has to devise now is where to put him.
He notices the journal once again. It teeters at the foot of the bed, almost ready to cascade onto the carpet below. A large black and white photograph gleams in the artificial light. The subject of his journal was, at that time, caught outside a jewellers, perusing the windows mid-call.
This is his other prey, his other, personal conquest. Justice is going to beat his door down, and he will answer for the life he took.
Michael Sastanovich might just have to wait an extra day or two.