M for Murder, page 19
A look of surprise passed over his face. Surprise that she was alive and then shock as he realised what she had done to him. He looked at her with accusing eyes. Eyes that were stone cold, but also made her feel as though she had in some way betrayed him. As though it was his God given right to take her life, and she shouldn’t attempt to stop him.
Jennifer swallowed hard. Her whole body frozen to the table.
Those eyes.
Stone eyes. Dead eyes. Eyes of pure evil.
He broke away, glancing down at the handle of the screwdriver, the cold steel embedded deep inside him. Blood was already pumping from where his skin had been pierced, soaking through his shirt. Deep red, almost black.
He bleeds black blood! He’s the goddamn Devil.
Jennifer willed herself to move, knowing that she had to get out of this hellhole. A strangled cry escaped his lips and, dropping the knife that was clenched in his hand, he stumbled backwards, crashing into the planks of wood.
Forcing herself to seize the chance, she threw herself off the table, the sheet still clutched around her, and ran for the door. Her head felt heavy, her limbs achy and weak.
Gotta get out of here. Gotta get out of here.
She reached for the handle of the door, clenching it tightly in her fist, and willed it to turn.
As the door started to creak open a strong arm banded around her waist, lifting her from the floor and carrying her back into the room.
‘No! No! Put me down! Get off me!’ she screamed loudly, kicking and struggling against his grip.
Reaching her arms over her head, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged as hard as she could. Although he didn’t let go of her, he released one arm and, grunting loudly, tried to wrestle himself free. Keeping hold of his head, Jennifer worked the fingers of one hand down onto his face. She felt the broad plain of his forehead, the thick hair of his brows, and the softer flesh of his eyelids. Using her thumb and forefinger, she stabbed him hard in the eyes. Screaming loudly, he released his grip, dropping her to the floor.
Jennifer landed uncomfortably on her knees. Ignoring the pain, she rolled over to face him, clutching the sheet across her chest, ready for another attack.
His back was still to her and he was yelling and screaming as he stumbled around like a blind man, holding his hands over his eyes.
She knew that she should run. This was her chance, her one chance of escape. Of course, she still had no idea where she was, and it was possible that when she reached the top of the stairs she might find herself locked in.
She hadn’t hurt him enough to stop him from coming after her, and she didn’t doubt that when he did he would be mad as hell. Glancing down at the floor, she saw the knife that he had dropped. The same knife he had planned to cut her with.
She reached forward and, grabbing hold of the handle, pulled the weapon towards her. It was heavy and at least twelve inches long with a sharp-edged blade that was already smeared with a few drops of her own blood.
The bastard was going to cut me with this.
Spurred on by a mixture of fear and anger, Jennifer picked herself up from the floor and lunged herself forward, ramming the knife hard into his back.
As the blade sunk in, an anguished cry tore from his lips and he stumbled forward into the workbench, knocking the two candles to the floor.
Jennifer stared at him through a sheen of tears as the flames started to rise, barely able to believe what she had just done. She wiped at her eyes with a shaking hand, watching him sink to the floor, and drew a raspy breath.
Oh my God! He’s dead. I’ve killed him.
Suddenly finding the energy to move, she turned and ran for the door. She passed through it without looking back, then once outside turned and slammed it shut.
There was no key in the lock and she guessed that it was probably in one of his pockets. She told herself though that it wasn’t really necessary to lock the door. If he wasn’t already dead from the stab wound she had inflicted, the flames would soon take care of him. There was no way that he could come after her now because either way he was dead, and no matter which way she looked at it, she had been the one who had killed him.
* * *
It was over an hour later before the police were called.
Back in the house, Jennifer hadn’t wasted time looking for a phone, knowing that by the time she found one, the whole house would be engulfed in flames, and it wasn’t until she finally stepped outside that she had realised just how isolated the property was.
There was one car parked out front, a silver Plymouth. After trying the doors, only to find them all locked, she had hiked along the quiet backwoods road at the end of the driveway for more than a mile, her pace slowed by her injuries, before she eventually stumbled upon a farmhouse.
The front door was opened by a thin-faced, elderly woman dressed completely in black, and her jaw had dropped open as she took in the sight of the girl standing on her doorstep dressed only in a sheet.
Jennifer bit her bottom lip nervously.
‘Can you help me, please?’ she asked in a shaky voice. ‘It’s my English professor. He just tried to kill me.’
25
Juniper, Oregon. Saturday 3rd May 1997
He had shown up just when things seemed as though they’d hit an all-time low.
Her grades were gradually slipping, Lawrie Parker barely knew that she existed and now, to top it all off, a serial killer with a penchant for college students was on the loose and hungry for his next victim. A victim whose profile she apparently matched.
When he had approached her, the conversation that had taken place hadn’t been at all what she’d expected, but after just five minutes of chatting with the guy she soon discovered that nothing about him was predictable and nothing was quite as it seemed. She wasn’t attracted to him, didn’t know him and, under current circumstances, knew that she shouldn’t really trust him. After all, she knew nothing about him and there was every possibility that he might be the man responsible for the five murdered students. She had been curious, though, curious to find out what he had to say and also interested in finding out just how come he knew her so well.
The first time she had seen him had been late Friday afternoon. She had been depositing the books from her last class into her locker and curiously studying the plain white envelope that had been wedged in the door, bearing her name in bold black print. She had noticed him watching her from across the hallway, leaning against the wall next to a fire hydrant, and wondered for a brief second who he was. As far as she was aware, he wasn’t a student and she was pretty certain that she’d never seen him before. Not appreciating his scrutiny, she had turned her back to him while she opened the envelope, eager to know what it contained.
There was no letter inside, instead just a playing card of a joker.
Justine stared at it curiously, wondering who had sent it to her and what it was supposed to mean. She glanced around the busy hallway. Most of the other students were either engaged in conversation or hurrying back to their dorms. Nobody was paying any attention to her. Nobody, except for the guy standing next to the fire hydrant.
She glanced up at him with a surge of anger as she realised that she was still being watched. Before she had the chance to tell him to quit staring at her, he had pushed himself away from the wall and disappeared into the crowd.
The second time she had seen him had been in town late on Saturday afternoon and this time he had actually come across and spoken to her. Luke had gone home for the weekend and, at a loss for what to do, she had gone shopping. After three hours spent trailing around various clothes stores, she had decided to treat herself to a cup of coffee and a chocolate fudge sundae in one of the many diners in town.
To be truthful, she was putting off returning to the college campus. Although she had known about the murdered students before the FBI visit, it had scared the hell out of her to find out that she fitted the profile of the killer’s next victim. She had spent most of Friday afternoon toying with the idea of going home. Her parents, though, were out of town until Sunday night and she didn’t have enough money in her account to pay for the bus fare home. In the end she had decided to wait until they returned, then give them a call to discuss it.
As she sipped her coffee, she tried to distract herself with thoughts of Lawrie. She found it difficult to believe that it had been a whole week ago that she’d paid him a visit. Her heartbeat quickened slightly as she remembered how she’d been inside his house, inside his bedroom and how she had worn his shirt and his tie. She wondered if either he or Kylan had noticed the tie missing, and then realised she didn’t really care. Although she had taken it by accident, she would hold on to it as a little keepsake to remind herself of that night. A souvenir. Her own little part of Lawrie.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t at first notice the man sitting at the counter watching her and, when she did finally notice him, it appeared that he was trying to catch her attention and get himself an invitation to join her. Although he didn’t receive one, he climbed down from his stool and made his way across to her table anyway.
Justine had planned on ignoring him or, if he was persistent, telling him to get lost. But he took her by surprise.
‘Hello, Justine.’
She gawped at him, wondering how come he knew her name when she’d never laid eyes on him before.
‘Who are you?’ she blurted, forgetting that she had planned on ignoring him.
Instead of sitting in one of the empty chairs opposite her, he took a seat at the table beside her. Evidently, he didn’t want to crash on her space. Smart move, she thought, and repeated her question.
‘Who are you?’
He offered his hand. ‘Let’s just say I’m a friend.’
His grip was strong, almost crushing, and she pulled her hand away.
‘Okay, friend. So how the hell do you know who I am?’
‘I’ve been watching you, Justine.’ He smiled and the lines around his eyes crinkled. ‘I think we should talk. Can I perhaps meet you somewhere later?’
Justine rolled her eyes. Here it was: the pick-up line. He must have seen her around campus and asked one of her friends what her name was.
‘We don’t need to talk and no, I’m not meeting you anywhere.’
‘It’s very important we talk, Justine. I really think you should reconsider.’
She laughed scornfully.
‘I’m not meeting you. No way! In fact, I think you’d better leave. And just so you know, I already have a boyfriend.’
The man’s smile grew wider. ‘It’s not Lawrie Parker, though, is it?’
Justine’s jaw dropped open. She felt as though a knife had been plunged into her chest.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak.
‘I think you know what I mean.’
‘I don’t. Tell me.’
‘I think Justine has a little crush on her professor.’ His tone was teasing and singsong as he looked at her expectantly. ‘You do, don’t you?’
Justine squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, heat rushing to her face. ‘I want you to leave now.’
‘No, you don’t. I can help you, Justine, and I think you’ll be very interested in hearing what I have to say.’
Justine glanced around the crowded room, checking that no one was looking in their direction. It crossed her mind that maybe the guy had been sent to play a practical joke. If he had though, how the hell did he know about her liking Lawrie? How the hell did anyone know about Lawrie?
Had she really been that obvious?
She glared at him. ‘I don’t want your help. In fact, I don’t want anything to do with you at all, so why don’t you just fuck off.’
The man didn’t move. Instead he smiled at her.
Justine repeated her request, this time hissing the words. ‘I said fuck off!’
Again, he didn’t move, only glanced around to see if anyone was in earshot of their conversation. The diner was busy though and no one seemed to be paying any attention to the two of them. He refocused his attention on her.
‘So, tell me, Justine, did you have a nice time playing in Lawrie’s house last Saturday night?’
Justine stared at him, not believing what she was hearing. She swallowed hard. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard what I said. Still want me to “fuck off”?’
She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. She was completely lost for words. How did he know? She found herself in a dangerous situation. So far, she hadn’t admitted to anything. Not that it mattered, as this guy seemed to know everything there was to know about her. Perhaps he was planning to blackmail her. Maybe threaten to go to Lawrie and tell him everything.
He can’t prove anything, though. It would be my word against his.
In her mind, she tried to retrace her steps through Lawrie’s house. Had she left any incriminating evidence that this guy could use against her? He must have something. Had he watched her in the house, maybe taken photos? Not sure how to play the situation, Justine waited for him to continue.
He smiled at her. ‘You’re going to let me stay, then? That’s good. Of course, I don’t know really why I should help you. After all, it seems to me that you’ve got a bit of an attitude problem.’ He leaned back comfortably in his chair, though his eyes remained lingering on her face. ‘So, tell me, then, why you did it, Justine. Was it for the excitement of breaking into someone else’s house? Or perhaps you just wanted to check out the competition. Kylan Parker is very pretty, isn’t she?’ He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. ‘If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that you did it for kicks. Did you go into the marital bedroom while you were there? Perhaps have a look through the closets or try out the bed?’
As he spoke, Justine’s cheeks burned and she had trouble breathing.
‘A regular little Goldilocks, aren’t you? Of course, you don’t have a chance in hell of getting Lawrie away from Kylan, but then you probably already know that. I mean, look at you. Your hair is too dull, and you don’t have her beautiful doe eyes. Still,’ he smiled cheerfully, ‘I guess there’s nothing there that can’t be fixed with a bottle of bleach and some tinted contact lenses.’ His eyes dropped to her breasts. ‘I don’t really know what you can do about the rest of you, though. To say you’re flat-chested would be an understatement. I guess you’d better hope that Lawrie likes the pancake look.’
Anger overcoming her embarrassment, Justine raised her hand to slap him. He caught her wrist and squeezed it tightly. Narrowing his eyes, he spoke with a harsh tone.
‘Think before you act, sweetheart. I know everything there is to know about you, don’t ever forget that, and don’t forget how easily I can bring you down if I have to.’ His tone became gentler and he smiled at her. ‘I say “have to”, but that doesn’t mean I want to. I need you, Justine, and you need me. If we work together then nobody else will ever have to know your dark and guilty secret, I promise you that.’
Justine studied his face, not sure whether she could trust him. Thinking about it realistically, she knew that she didn’t really have much of a choice. Fighting the urge to get up and run, she instead shifted her chair closer to him.
‘Go on, then. Let’s hear it. What do you have to say?’
He smiled again, and his eyes crinkled.
‘Like I said, Justine, we have a lot in common, the two of us. We both want something which is at the moment unobtainable to us. But I think that if we work together, we might be able to change that situation.’
‘I don’t get what you mean,’ Justine said, beginning to understand exactly what he meant. She felt her heart skip a beat. ‘You want Kylan, don’t you?’
He didn’t answer, instead giving her a faint smile that led her to believe she had guessed correctly. She chewed her bottom lip, realising that maybe the situation wasn’t quite as bleak as it had initially looked. If she worked with him, then maybe she really would have a shot at getting Lawrie.
‘Okay, you’ve got me interested. A little bit interested.’
‘Good. I knew I could count on you, Justine.’
Justine nodded, still feeling a little uneasy. ‘So what’s your plan then?’
He glanced around the diner again before shifting his chair a little closer.
‘I want you to meet me tonight. I’ll pick you up outside this diner, and then I’ll tell you the plan.’
Justine stared at him, aware the colour was draining from her face. ‘You want me to go off alone with you?’ she asked, not liking the idea at all.
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t. We have a curfew.’
‘A curfew? Really?’ He looked at her and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Justine, I’ll look after you.’
Justine shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’
‘Why not? You do want to do this, don’t you?’ His tone was baiting.
‘Do I have a choice?’ she mumbled, more so to herself, as she remembered what he had said about Lawrie.
‘No, I guess you don’t.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ Justine gazed uncomfortably at her lap.
‘You’ve got to learn to trust me, Justine.’
‘Trust you? You’re blackmailing me, for Christ’s sake!’
The man rolled his eyes. He leant forward, a slight look of irritation on his face. ‘Look, don’t be so melodramatic. I’m not forcing you to meet me tonight. If you want, get up and go and pretend we never met.’ He paused, grinning at her. ‘Of course, I won’t be able to offer you any guarantees that Lawrie won’t find out about his late-night visitor.’ He studied her face carefully. ‘It’s up to you, Justine; the decision’s all yours. You want to walk away? You want to call my bluff? Then go.’
