Not Forgotten (22 page)

Chapter 31

Amelia Donovan hated to be the person who collected the research and made calls. She wasn’t by any standards a passive person. She was a go-getter and an arse kicker. But she did the work without complaint—or at least verbal complaint. She had kicked the printer once or twice when it had decided to jam. It soon fell into line like everyone else around the office who had all decided it was easier to be with her than against.

She had big dreams. Ever since she’d been sixteen she had been hell bent on getting out of her neighbourhood and making something out of herself. Now she was slated to take over as Superintendent after Harris left and she was on top of the moon. Not that she let anybody else know just how excited she was about her soon-to-be promotion. But for now she was paying her dues, being a copy-maker and all-round gopher. Besides, Matt was primary on the case and no one really wanted that title. The Butcher was a ghost. But Amelia had faith in her team. They were all good detectives. They had to be or they wouldn’t have been hired.

She took the last sheet of paper off the printer and stapled it into the manila folder. She moved towards Matt’s desk. The new guy was preparing to leave. He could use the rest; they all could. She and Hill had been on call last night and between tracking down leads, they had been sent out to deal with a couple of rambunctious little twits who decided after a few drinks to have a punch up. They were now in the drunk tank sleeping off their decision. She was looking forward to catching a few hours herself. She had begun to ripen having worked up a sweat diffusing the situation between the two boys and as soon as she dropped off the file was hitting the shower.

Darryl nodded to her as he walked past, his eyes already half closed. She let out a deep breath as Matt’s in-tray became visible and placed the folder onto his already precarious pile. Grabbing her purse she made a beeline for the showers, passing Matt on the way.

“File’s on your desk, Murphy. I’m outta here.”

***

Matt nodded and said goodnight. He picked up the file Amelia had left as he sat down. His eyes bulged as he read the court document.
Damn, Donovan is good
, he thought. The document was a formal agreement between Ian Walker and Helen Chance, AKA Helen Teller, dated seventeen years ago.

Matt was still reeling at the web of lies spinning out of control when he read the next sheet and felt like swearing. Harry Teller had disappeared not long after his mother’s funeral. He’d never shown up at his foster home and had gone completely off the grid after collecting his inheritance. It was almost as if he had died when his mother had. He had no address or job, no bank account or tax refund.

Matt wanted to kick himself. They should’ve thought about the boy earlier. No, not the boy—the man. He would be well into his twenties by now. To think, a murderer at age thirteen. He lifted up his phone and tried to call Natalie. He was absolutely certain they’d just cracked the case and she was the first person he thought of to share the news. His stomach flipped when both her mobile and house line rang out. She had promised him she’d be careful and take no unnecessary risks and he’d called her only an hour before. She had been at home and quite happy to stay there once he told her about the newest victim. With his heart pounding in his throat he grabbed his keys and took off towards the exit.

Chapter 32

Natalie spun around to face the man and her breath caught in her throat as she watched the figure all decked out in black come forward in the light. His face was not covered. He was
not
a common burglar no matter how he was dressed. She looked into cold dark eyes and shivered. She swore the devil looked back at her.

“Stepfathers haven’t a chance with you. You know dear old dad only came to apologise to you. I believe it’s all part of his twelve-step program and you had to kill him,” he scolded.

Natalie darted a look at the still figure. Blood gathered on his head where the bat had connected and tears spilled over onto her cheeks. Her body trembled and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

She knew tonight was the night she would die.

“
Do you know who I am, Natalie?” he asked. His dark black stare bored into her.

She tried to look away, to look at anything but him, but those obsidian ovals kept her there. Natalie attempted to calm herself. She could feel the fearful sweat coat her skin and endeavoured to level her voice as her brain tried to deny what her eyes saw.

“Henry Rellet.”

The eyes and hair were different but she still recognised him. No wonder his honey hair had looked so off on him. He had obviously been wearing a wig—not to mention contacts—in her company.

Henry Rellet AKA the Butcher smiled coolly at her, as if she was some child who’d just answered a question correctly. He looked so far removed from the man who had sat in her office that for a second she wondered at him having a twin. Only then did she remember his transformation a few days before.

“And before that?”

Natalie trembled. She was going to die. She saw it all clearly now. That one piece of the puzzle she’d known she knew. That one damn piece that would make everything fall together neatly.

Henry screamed at her. “And. Before. That?”

Natalie could feel the tears threatening to spill out. She blinked them back, her voice quivering as she spoke.

“Harry Teller. Helen Teller’s son.”
How had she missed that?
She wondered. Rellet was the reverse of Teller. It was almost as if he was asking to be found, deliberately taunting her.

Harry Teller nodded enthusiastically. He was enjoying himself, enjoying tormenting her. Natalie pleaded with her feet to work as Harry looked about her kitchen, his gaze settling on her knife block. Natalie didn’t wait around for what would evidently come next. She took off running towards the door.

Harry moved quickly, as if he was a panther and she his prey he wanted to toy with before ultimately killing. He grabbed hold of her and jerked her back by her hair. Natalie screamed and struggled, her arms flailing about wildly as she tried to free herself. His hands tightened painfully around her.

She could see it so clearly now. How he would move around the country unnoticed like a nomad, stalking his victims before killing them. He’d be out of town before the body was discovered, except this time—this time was different and she shuddered thinking about why. Her thoughts suddenly left her as she was pushed back into the wall. Her head bounced off the drywall as she was unprepared for the shove and pain erupted in her head.

“No, Natalie. That ruins everything,” he admonished.

He produced a roll of duct tape from his clothes and taped her wrists together. She could feel the sticky residue tugging painfully at the small hairs it found there. He glared at her as he pushed her onto the stool in her kitchen. He made a show of revealing his knife, allowing the moonlight streaming through the window to flash across the stainless steel blade.

“Is it pissing you off that I’m not begging for my life?” she asked calmly.

He sneered and arrogantly said, “You think that’s going to work? I know you’re scared of me, Natalie. I can smell your fear from here.”

“Of course I’m scared. I’m bound defenceless while you have a knife,” she shivered at that. “But I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing me beg. You know it’s not really sportsmanlike to bind my wrists. Are you that intimidated by me that you need to handicap me?”

That’s nice, Natalie, stroke the bear.

Pissing off the sadistic killer standing in your kitchen waving a knife about was not the way to ensure a long and healthy life. Harry smiled, flashing his blindingly white teeth and Natalie caught sight of his exceptionally long canines.

“I’m told your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. Do you see your life flashing before your eyes, Natalie?”

She resisted the urge to gulp. “A lot of things are flashing before my eyes. It’s hard to pinpoint a certain event.”

But she could see her life clearly. Splashing around the bathtub pretending to be a beautiful mermaid. Her beloved aunt and uncle. Her home. The office she had worked so hard to obtain. Matt’s green gaze smiling at her. Matt kissing her. A tear spilled over onto her cheek.

“Tell me, how does it feel knowing I could’ve ended your life at any time? During any one of those useless sessions? Did you even realise all those women I told you about were my many conquests?”

Natalie felt the blood leave her face. Her mind raced as it fought to remember every word he’d ever said. No wonder he never used names during their sessions and she thought about the hospital worker and her mind flashed on Marie Stanton. Then only days ago the blonde he was raving on about. She immediately knew that Linda Cavanaugh had been a blonde and she felt sick to her stomach.

“You killed your mother, didn’t you? Tortured her like you’ve done so many others, like you plan to do to me.”

“She was a horrible woman. She made me love her and gave nothing in return. I did everything she ever wanted but it was never good enough. I tired of being second fiddle to her work and her men.”

She felt his rage at his mother. It was palpable. Natalie wondered if when Harry looked at her if he was actually seeing her or Helen. She guessed he saw his beloved mother. The woman who had inadvertently brought about so many deaths. Natalie saw it in her mind. How it had been for little Harry Teller, the neglected boy longing for his mother’s love and approval? But eventually the hatred for his mother rose and grew into an adolescent revenge.

“Do you know what she’d do to me if I was less than perfect? She’d beat me, burn me and lock me away in the cupboard. She used me as a prop, so others would think how wonderful, how maternal she was.”

Natalie understood him all too well and it made her sick. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. She had experienced an almost identical childhood to Harry. How close had she been to losing her path as he had done? Had it been the fact that her father had been there for a time to give her love and later her aunt and uncle? It was scary to think that she could have easily shared the same fate as Harry. It was scary what changed a person so completely that they turned into cold-blooded psychopaths.

Harry had been so isolated from love and she felt for the boy. She didn’t want to be sympathetic but her heart ached for him. The child. She didn’t feel anything but anger to the man.

“Did Ian know?”

Harry’s dark glower bored into hers and she refused to show any emotion. His mouth twisted in amusement. “She couldn’t hide it. It was her nature to seek and destroy me until she once again needed me.”

Natalie closed her eyes for a moment. She knew Ian hadn’t said anything. Reports of abuse would have arose during the murder investigation. She shuddered. The pregnancy. Hallie. Ian and Missy raising her together. Helen had bought Ian’s silence with their baby. Harry had suffered because Ian had wanted to protect his daughter. Harry had killed his mother because she was incapable of loving him. He had resented the fact that she chose work over him and probably projected her failings as a mother onto all those unfortunate woman—on her.

Natalie watched as Harry paced the floor in front of her. She let her gaze drift about the room looking for a weapon or something to help her remove the duct tape. She hated the thought that she was about to die because Harry saw her as an unfeeling, career driven woman. She wasn’t.

“You killed Ian because he knew the truth and had done nothing to help you, didn’t you? You punished his daughter, your half-sister, for something she had no control over.”

Natalie remembered the reports she had read about the Walkers, how they were such a loving family. The perfect unit, Hallie had everything Harry always wanted: someone to love him. It must have eaten away at him for years seeing his little sister in the newspaper surrounded by such happiness.

Eventually the abuse and lack of emotion in his household had led to murder. The crime scene photos flashed before Natalie’s eyes and her breathing stuttered. She could see the bloody and mutilated body of Helen Teller lying on the floor. The blood that had seeped out of her body dried on the wood, marring the boards. She watched as the murder played out before her eyes as if a movie. A thirteen-year-old Harry stabbing his mother with a kitchen knife again and again before moving the blade to her throat. At the power he found, the lust of the kill.

Harry grabbed her shoulders hard and she could feel his fingers digging into her skin. She bit her lip so not to give him any pleasure at hearing her pain.

“When I’m done with you, I’m going to her,” he promised. He must’ve seen her sceptical look because he moved closer to her until their heads were almost touching. “Don’t believe me? I’ve seen her sleeping at night. She looks so much like Ian, don’t you think? I plan on taking my time with her. You’re nothing compared to her. An entrée to the main course and I plan on ripping out her heart.”

She shivered at his tone. He was anticipating the meeting with sick interest. Natalie thought about Hallie and how truly defenceless she was in there. Hallie thought she was safe. She wasn’t. She was vulnerable. Natalie felt the anger rise in her, the need to protect Hallie stronger than her fear.

“You will never get to her,” she vowed.