No Escape, page 9
The interior was in utter disarray, furniture strewn about and personal belongings scattered haphazardly. It was evident that John Murphy had not shown any mercy to his aunt and uncle. As Will stepped gingerly around the remnants of the shattered living room, a cold, sinister sensation wormed its way down his spine. This was undoubtedly the work of a truly deranged and malevolent mind.
Charlie knelt beside the lifeless form of Martha Williams, examining the grisly tableau. “He’s getting bolder,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “No sign of forced entry. He must have picked the lock or found another way in. And look at how he positioned their bodies—it’s as though he’s trying to convey a message.”
Will scrutinized the harrowing crime scene, his face ashen. “What kind of message, though? And for whom?”
“Maybe to us,” Charlie suggested, his voice tinged with grim determination. “Or to Valerie. He knows she’s hunting him, and he wants to taunt her, show her that he’s always one step ahead.”
As they delved deeper into the scene, they discovered a note on the kitchen table, its edges stained with blood. Will picked it up gingerly, using gloves, and read it aloud. “To my dear family, thank you for the warm welcome. Your hospitality will never be forgotten. Love, John.”
“The bastard’s mocking us,” Charlie growled, anger flashing in his eyes like lightning. “He’s not just a cold-blooded killer; he’s playing a twisted, sadistic game with our lives.”
Will exhaled a heavy sigh, feeling the oppressive weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “We need to find Valerie and Suzie before John does. And before the police catch up to them.”
Will walked back to the bodies, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked at Martha and Albert again, and something about them caught his eye. Their eyes were closed, as if they were merely sleeping. Will called Charlie over.
“Look at this, Charlie. Their eyes are closed,” Will said, pointing, uncertainty in his voice.
Charlie knelt down for a closer look. “You’re right. The forensic team wouldn’t have done that, not until after the autopsy.” He glanced at Will, curiosity in his eyes. “What do you think it means?”
Will rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze locked on the lifeless faces. “Sometimes a killer closes the victim’s eyes as a sign of distant remorse or guilt. It’s as if they don’t want the victim to stare at them, even after death.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow, surprised by the observation. “John Murphy? Feeling guilt or remorse? It doesn’t seem likely, given his track record.”
“I know,” Will conceded. “But we can’t ignore the possibility. Perhaps there’s a part of him that knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he can’t stop himself.”
Will doubted his own words as they left his mouth. He turned his attention back to the note left at the scene, a cruel, mocking message that seemed at odds with the idea of a remorseful killer.
“The note is too mocking to be from someone who feels remorse,” Will said, his voice troubled. “John Murphy must have closed their eyes for some other reason.”
Charlie’s gaze flicked between the note and the victims’ closed eyes. “What could that be, though?” he asked.
Will shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know. But it’s worth noting. There must be a reason behind it.”
The two men exchanged a look, the weight of the unknown bearing down on them. They knew that every detail mattered, that understanding the mind of their quarry was essential in predicting his next move. And as they stood in the silent house, the scene of so much pain and loss, they couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of urgency.
Charlie began to talk about John Murphy’s previous history, recalling the disturbing pattern of his previous killing spree.
“You know, before we caught him a year ago, he was targeting family members,” Charlie said, his voice heavy with concern. “Now that he’s out, he seems to be going after them again.”
Will rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. “Do we have a complete list of John’s family members in the area?”
Charlie shook his head. “I’m not sure. The police will be working that angle, but we’re not here in an official capacity, and besides, we don’t have direct access to the FBI’s database. Not since our unit got mothballed until the investigation is over.”
Will nodded in agreement. “We need to get that list and put a protection detail on each of them. We can’t afford to lose any more lives to this madman. And if we have it, maybe we can find out where Valerie might go to next, as well… The trick is to get access to the damned data.”
“Then if we can’t get that list,” Charlie said, “we’ll have to pull in a favor from the only one who can.”
“You don’t mean…”
“But we’ll need to be discreet,” Charlie said. “We’re not supposed to have any contact, so let’s do it away from prying eyes.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
John Murphy leaned against the grimy brick wall in the back alley of the clothing store, his breath visible in the cold air.
His cousin Joshua had once worked in the industry, running his own store, and it was this knowledge that allowed him to be patient. All he needed to do was wait for the perfect opportunity to slip inside.
There’s always a delivery out back or…
As if on cue, the back door of the store opened with a creak, and a young employee stepped out into the alley, lighting up a cigarette. John had been waiting on a delivery truck, but the outcome was the same. He now had access, if he was careful.
This was his chance. John moved swiftly and silently, watching the young woman smoking, glued to her phone.
Too easy, he thought.
He slipped through the open door behind her, and never made a sound.
The storage rooms are always at the back, he almost instructed himself.
Once inside, he pressed himself against the wall, listening intently for any signs of people nearby. He could hear the distant hum of shoppers and employees going about their day, but he was hidden from view, tucked away in a dimly lit corridor.
John moved cautiously, keeping an eye out for anyone who might spot him. He soon came across a storage room, its door slightly ajar. He took a chance and entered, finding himself surrounded by racks of clothes waiting to be put out on the shop floor.
He grabbed a pair of jeans, a tee, and a sweater and quickly pulled them on, discarding his old, stained clothes in a large trash bin in the corner of the storage room. If he was lucky, someone would throw out the trash and not even know they were disposing of evidence for him.
That thought made John smile.
The disguise wasn’t perfect, but it would do the job.
John made his way to the front of the store, feeling the adrenaline course through his veins. He was like a ghost, slipping through the world unnoticed, his intentions unknown to those around him. He caught sight of his reflection in a mirror, and for a moment, he almost didn’t recognize himself.
Good, then they won’t either, he thought.
He kept his composure as he walked past the oblivious employees and customers, his eyes locked on the exit. He knew that every second counted, and he couldn’t afford to be caught stealing. That might alert the authorities to where he was, and that damned Valerie, or another overpaid moron, might figure out where he was going.
He walked by a security guard who barely looked up at him. The world was full of people not willing to do what was necessary. John knew that, if only the man had bothered to look at him and see that he was wearing store clothes, he might have been caught out.
But no, the world was full of people who didn’t care.
John walked by him and then pushed through the doors and stepped out into the busy street, the crisp air meeting him like an old friend.
The cold air hitting his face felt like a splash of water, invigorating him as he moved along the busy street. Now that he had changed clothes, he felt a little more anonymous. One step closer to being the true instrument of justice he knew he was meant to be.
John passed by a lane and then crossed a busy street. Then he headed down a quieter road. There, he smelled the fresh coffee of a cafe, the seats outside empty. He couldn’t help but notice a newspaper left on one of the white tables.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he picked it up to scan the headlines.
His eyes immediately locked on the front-page story. It featured a picture of his own mug shot when he was arrested, but the insert showed two smaller pictures of Valerie Law and her sister. The headline suggested she might be an accomplice to the string of murders and that the FBI was investigating.
John couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. The one person who had managed to put him away was now being suspected of helping him.
He shook his head in amusement and set the paper back down on the table. It was perfect, really. With the authorities chasing after Valerie and Suzie at the same time, he could continue his deadly mission with less chance of interference from the one person who had ever managed to stop him.
A renewed sense of determination washed over him as he walked away from the cafe, already planning his next target. John knew that, with Valerie Law well out of the picture, he was free to tie up any remaining loose ends and continue to exact his twisted brand of vengeance on those he deemed most deserving of it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Valerie guided the old truck through the cozy, sun-kissed streets, the warm glow of the afternoon casting a golden hue over everything it touched.
But she did not feel sunshine seeping into her thoughts, only gloom resting there, waiting to infect all around it.
The journey had been mostly quiet, with the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio. She stole a glance at Suzie, who seemed lost in thought, her expression hesitant and distant.
“Suzie, what’s wrong?” Valerie asked, concern coloring her voice. “You’ve been quiet for a while now.”
Suzie sighed, looking out the window at the passing houses. “I’ve been thinking about Mom,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “If she really killed Dad, does that mean… does that mean there’s evil in our blood? Is that why I got sick in the head, and you too?”
Valerie frowned, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. She had asked herself the same question countless times since discovering the truth about their parents.
“No, Suzie, it doesn’t,” she replied, her voice firm. “Our choices define who we are, not our blood. We can choose to be better than the mistakes our parents made. Mental illness is common. It doesn’t make a person evil. It’s stigmatized, but a person with a mental illness is no more or less likely to be evil than anyone.”
“Are you sure of that?” Suzie asked. “Mom hurt us…”
“And I struggle with that every day,” Valerie said. “But I’m done with it. I let all the pain torture me until I ended up breaking down. No more, Suzie. No more. I choose to believe Mom is the rare exception where someone’s delusions are so pronounced that they make them do things they wouldn’t normally do. It’s not her fault.”
“To us or our dad?” Suzie asked.
Valerie had thought about that, too. But she hadn’t quite gotten her head around it yet.
“I wasn’t there when Dad died,” she finally said. “But I can say she was too far gone when we were kids to be blamed for what she did to us… She thought she was helping us in her own, fractured way. Maybe that was the same with Dad. I don’t know.”
Valerie had a flash in her mind. A memory of her mother wielding a knife and talking about cutting the evil out of them, with tears streaming down her face. Valerie shook the thought away.
“We can’t let ourselves be tarred by our parents’ actions,” Valerie said softly.
Suzie nodded slowly, but it was clear that she was still troubled by the idea. Valerie wished she could do more to reassure her sister, but she knew that only time and action could truly help them both overcome the weight of their family’s past.
“I wish I could have been a fly on the wall,” Suzie said. “Then I could know exactly what Mom is like deep down.”
“We still don’t know exactly what our mother did,” Valerie said. “But I refuse to be defined by the mystery of it any longer. All I can do is move forward and try to be better. We’re more than the sum of our parts, Suzie.”
Valerie slowed down and pulled into the sidewalk, not a soul in sight.
She turned and cupped her little sister’s face in her hands. “You are a lovely person and you deserve to be happy. There’s not an ounce of evil in you. And I should know…”
Valerie looked out to a row of houses, focusing her gaze on a two-story house in the middle.
“I’ve encountered it enough,” she said.
Suzie nodded, a tear streaking her cheek before Valerie gently wiped it away.
“My friend Will,” Valerie said softly. “He told me once that darkness needs the light. It craves it. All you need is someone to come along and flick the switch… We can do that, Suzie. You and I. Despite all the pain in our lives. Despite the history. We can flick that switch for other people. Our lives might have been dark, but we can stop that from happening to other people…”
“I see it now.” Suzie smiled. “That’s why you did it, isn’t it?”
“Did what?” Valerie asked.
“Joined the FBI,” Suzie answered. “You wanted to bring a bit of light to the world.”
Suzie looked out at the houses again. “Which one is it?”
Valerie pointed to the two-story house in the middle of the row. “That’s it,” she said, her voice laced with misgivings. “Number 17.”
“That’s where John Murphy used to live with his wife?” Suzie asked.
“Yes,” Valerie murmured. “It was his family home, for a time at least. Come on.”
Valerie opened her door and stepped out into the street, feeling oddly exposed in the eerie silence. Suzie followed suit and they began walking along the cracked pavement toward the house. Valerie felt tense as they approached, unsure of what to expect.
The sun was shining down on them, providing some warmth as a gentle breeze blew through their hair. There were no other people in sight, no noise except for the occasional chirp from a nearby bird. Valerie couldn’t help but feel that something strange was happening—like there was an unseen force watching over them as they walked closer and closer to their destination.
Finally, Valerie spotted a “For Sale” sign planted in the overgrown front yard. The shutters on the windows were closed tight and Valerie felt a chill run down her spine as she wondered what secrets might be hidden behind them. She glanced at Suzie and saw that she was just as apprehensive.
Valerie huffed out a breath, trying to summon some courage from within.
“We’re lucky no one’s home,” she said, trying to sound more positive than she felt. “If John Murphy had still been here with his family… he could have killed them.”
Suzie nodded slowly, but it was clear that she was still troubled by the idea. They reached the front gate of the house and Valerie paused before pushing it open. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the door.
Valerie reached up and knocked gently, listening for any noises coming from within. As she expected, there was no answer, but just to be sure, she knocked again a little louder. Still nothing. Suzie gave her an encouraging smile and Valerie turned the knob, pushing open the door to reveal a dark interior.
“Why is it unlocked?” Suzie asked.
Valerie studied the lock. “Someone has forced it. Be careful, okay?”
Suzie nodded, hesitating. “You think he’s here already, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
Valerie stepped inside and was met with the smell of stale air mixed with something else—something that sent shivers down her spine. She looked around cautiously but couldn’t see much in the darkness. Taking a few more steps forward, she felt something crunch beneath her foot and she paused, quickly realizing it was glass.
Valerie felt Suzie move closer behind her as she continued farther inside, careful to avoid making too much noise for fear of attracting unwanted attention.
As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they were able to make out some furniture scattered across the room as if someone had left in a hurry—or been dragged away from it without warning. It seemed like time had been frozen here—like they’d stepped into another world entirely. As if sensing their presence, Valerie felt an icy chill on her skin and whispers on the back of her neck as if something unseen was watching them intently.
A cackle sounded from inside the house somewhere. Valerie shuddered. It was her mother’s voice. The stress was getting to her. She was on the cusp of another hallucination
She controlled her breathing and let it pass.
“Are you okay?” Suzie whispered.
Valerie hadn’t gotten used to Suzie being the one more in control. It made her feel unsettled. She had always been the one to take care of things, and now, ever since her breakdown, Suzie had been accidentally taking that role from her.
Valerie nodded, pushing away her worries and taking a deep breath. “I wish Charlie was here,” she said sadly. “He always has an amazing sense of hearing. It’s saved us during several manhunts.”
“Maybe this won’t be one of those,” Suzie said hopefully. “Any luck and the police will already have him in custody.”
But Valerie knew that was unlikely. The local police department didn’t know John Murphy the way she did. She had studied his every move. She knew it was never simple with him. He would be difficult to catch.
Valerie took a step away from the door, ready to move further into the house. With one last glance back at Suzie, she took a deep breath and stepped forward, feeling her mouth dry with apprehension.
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