The Hunter Inside (21 page)

He mused upon the fact that
he had failed to notice the trees when he had passed the previous day. He had
been so anxious to find refuge and a place to rest, that he had failed to
notice what must be one of the main attractions of Atlantic Beach.

Now though, he was
determined to soak up the beauty and peace-giving qualities of the calm body of
water that lay opened out in front of him. He was entitled to relax, and maybe
getting away from Glen Rock would give him the chance to do just that. So far
he had not seen or heard anything since his arrival that rang alarm bells in
his mind, and as he stood and began to walk slowly alongside the lake he felt a
sense of release. There were a couple of people milling about, just getting on
with their business. Bill got on with his. He strolled onwards, inhaling deep
breaths of fresh air and stopping every now and again to pick up a stone and
skim it across the surface of the water.

He loved the outdoors and
the feeling of freedom that came with venturing out to explore one’s
surroundings. The tiny, cramped motel room had gotten to him very quickly, and
he compared himself to a homing pigeon, released from its confinement to enjoy
an amazing view of the unconfined beauty of nature all around. He watched a
young mother as she struggled to keep her two children out of trouble and
danger. She did not seem to be having such a good time trying to warn them away
from the edge of the water. In their desire to play fight they took notice of
her repeated warnings for just a second before youth made them return to the
water’s edge, keen to explore and willing to take risks in a game of
one-upmanship that left their mother visibly nervous and irritable.

As he watched their ongoing
cycle and strolled towards them, Bill thought about children. He had never
regretted the fact that he hadn’t had any of his own. It was not because he did
not like children; he did. It was more to do with the fact that he had never
been good at letting people get close to him. He lived a pretty solitary life
and had done for a long time, but he was his own boss and this was something
that, under normal circumstances, made him happy. There were not a lot of
people who could truly say they could do what they wanted when they wanted.
Responsibility was a thing that restricted a person’s personal liberty, and,
while he knew that he had missed out on all the joy and pain that went with
having a family, the events in his past made him wary of developing close
relationships with people.

That was just the way it
was for Bill Arnold. He would continue to be wary in the future, especially
while he was being stalked by a confirmed killer.

This person is to blame
, he thought to himself. If
it had not been for the death of his father and his mother’s disappearance,
then maybe his life would be different now. He had suffered ten years of
torment and anguish at the hands of this man. Now he was ready for it to end.

He had walked almost from
one end of the lake to the other and he turned around and began to walk back
the way he had come. His stomach was beginning to grumble and he decided to go
to a steak house he’d seen on his way to the lake. Later on he would find a bar
where he could get drunk and act like a tourist for the night.

As he walked away from the
lake back towards the road he began to look forward to having a drink. The
hangover that he had suffered the previous morning had long gone, taking with
it the resolution he had made never to drink again. He was ready to drink a
whole bar and forget about his stalker for tonight. Just for one night.

Then he would be ready to
face his demons.

Sandy sat on the sofa in Melissa
Dahlia’s lounge. She was alone, as Melissa had left for work some twenty
minutes earlier. The television was on, but the drivel that emanated from the
large set was drowned out by the thoughts inside her head. She could not stop
thinking about the previous night’s dream and wondering if it was real and what
it meant.

The feeling of security
that she had felt by being at Melissa’s was gone, and she felt vulnerable once
again. The dream seemed so real. But was the man real, and why had she dreamed
of his death?

She thought about Joe and
the kids, wondering if they were okay. Sean and David had never been separated
from their mother before, and she had not even said goodbye to them before she
went. This was something that she felt guilty about.

What if something happens
to me
, she
thought,
and I haven’t said goodbye to them?

She worried about Joe, and
whether or not he would stand up to the pressure of coping with the two boys
alone. He would also have the added pressure of concealing his feelings and the
truth of the situation from the children.

She was lonely without her
family. Whenever she thought about them tears welled in her eyes. One escaped
and made its way down the side of her face, dripping onto her lap and leaving a
small, round stain on the 501’s that Melissa had given her to wear.

She would ring Joe. She had
to, he’d be out of his mind worrying whether she was alive or dead and she
couldn’t leave him suffering. Her previous call had been so short. She went to
the telephone and picked up the receiver, dialing the number quickly and
hearing the anxious voice of her husband before she heard the telephone ring in
her ear. ‘Sandy?’

‘Yes Joe, it’s me.’ Sandy
thought she would die as she felt her heartstrings being tugged and she waited
to hear his reaction as she wiped away the fresh tears that had gathered in the
corners of her eyes.

‘Thank God. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine Joe. There hasn’t
been any trouble since I got here and Melissa’s been great…’ She trailed off as
she realized she had disclosed her whereabouts to her husband.

‘You’re at Melissa’s? We’re
all missing you, babe.’ Joe Myers didn’t know what to say to his wife. He felt
as though his life had been paused, and his words seemed inadequate. He wanted
to tell her that every nerve, every vein was hers. That his heart ached without
her and that he would do anything to protect her, even if it meant his own life
being jeopardized. But the words stopped in his throat and he fell silent.

‘I miss you guys too, Joe.
Are the boys okay?’

‘Yeah, they’re fine. They
keep asking for you though. Do you think you’re coming back soon hun?’

‘Yeah, soon darling. I just
need to give it a bit longer to make sure it’s safe.’

‘I love you, Sandy.’ She
could hear the emotion in his voice as he said this and it made her angry that
they had been forced apart by this thing.

‘I love you too, Joe. Tell
the boys for me. I gotta go. Sorry Joe.’

She slammed down the
receiver and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Her grief was mixed with rage as
she succumbed to hysterical sobbing, and she wondered how much more she could
take. It was all so confusing. She felt as though her mind was spinning around
and she did not feel fully in control. The stress was beginning to get to her
like never before, and she did not know how long she would be able to stay away
from her family. It was getting harder to breathe with every minute and every
heart wrenching telephone call that she had to make.

Sandy sat with her back
against the sofa and wished for this thing to end. She wanted so much for it
all to be over, so that she could go back to Joe and her boys and her life. Get
everything back to normal, and put this nightmare behind her.

Todd Mayhew looked at Special Agent
Sam O’Neill. The two men’s eyes met and O’Neill tried to read the mind of the
old man through the look on his face. It was impossible for him to do this, and
he wondered what Mayhew was going to say. He could tell it was going to be very
serious, and he didn’t want another second to pass before he heard it, but
Mayhew delayed before he spoke to the Special Agent.

He wondered how much of the
seemingly mad story Wayans had told O’Neill on the previous day. If it were all
of it, then the large man that now faced him had obviously had trouble
believing it. If it was none of it, as Todd Mayhew feared, he was going to have
a lot of trouble convincing him that it was true. He thought of the beating
Paul had received. That was something he
definitely
wanted to avoid, and
he didn’t want the cop to think he was trying to waste his time.

It was the thought of the
other people that must be directly involved that made him determined to tell
the story of Shimasou to the man sitting opposite him. He had trouble seeing
any further than that and was reluctant to even try, such were the implications
that came with the chance of this thing being real and him failing to do
anything that might stop its progress.

Mayhew knew that he could
probably have done nothing to save Paul Wayans. He would have been killed too.
They needed to be prepared to take on this thing, if they were to have any chance
of beating it.

The cop and the other
people directly involved may just be strong enough collectively
, he thought,
to have a
chance against this already terrifically strong creature
.

‘I don’t suppose I could
have stopped it.’ Mayhew sighed as he uttered the words and admitted his true
feelings. ‘The only way we can have any chance of stopping it is if we know who
it’s already killed and who it’s going to kill next.’ The blurted words of the
old man sounded a bit too irrational to the Special Agent and he interrupted
Mayhew.

‘Whoa, slow down. Take your
time Todd.’ He seemed to be running away with himself, and O’Neill felt a
growing concern over the condition of his heart, such was the force in his
words and expression. He took control of the situation, using all of his
experience to calm Mayhew. If he was calm, the information he would give would
be a lot more helpful than if he allowed himself to be overcome by the
circumstances in which he found himself.

‘Let’s start from the
beginning. You told me earlier that you saw Paul in the last few hours of his
life. Tell me where. What did he say to you?’

‘Okay.’ The old man took a
deep breath before continuing. ‘You had him yesterday questioning him, didn’t
you? Where were you?’

‘We were in Atlantic
Beach.’

‘Yes. That’s it. He called
me and asked me to meet him at Chee-Uz bar. He must have been in Atlantic Beach
when he called.’

‘Where’s Chee-Uz bar,
Todd?’ O’Neill asked. He wanted to cover every option in trying to find out who
had killed Paul Wayans and John Riley. He was determined that nothing should go
unnoticed, and was prepared to ask a million questions of the old man if it
meant him getting closer to the killer.

‘It’s not far from here,’
Mayhew replied.

‘Could the killer have
watched you while you were there?’

‘No, you don’t understand.
This isn’t a killer that could walk into a bar and go unnoticed.’ Mayhew looked
at O’Neill with an expression that suggested he thought he’d gone mad. All that
O’Neill could do was look back. He refused to drop his gaze, despite the sense
of apprehension that made his shoulders tense and the hairs on the back of his
neck stand up.

Todd Mayhew held out the
white file for the second time. This time the Special Agent took it and placed
it down in front of him, looking inquisitively for answers at Mayhew as he
picked up the cup in front of him and took a sip of coffee, revealing a shaky
hand in the process.

O’Neill looked at the
file’s dogged ears and surmised that it had spent most of its life in a closet.
On the front of the manila file was the name of Paul Wayans, written presumably
by the man himself. Still, Mayhew had not offered any answers. He had said
it
when referring to what O’Neill would expect to be a
him
. Maybe the file
would shed some light on this. Maybe Wayans had known something about his
killer. He had certainly felt so when he questioned him the previous day.

He opened the first page of
the file and saw printed in large letters, ‘Shimasou’.

‘What’s Shimasou?’ He
looked from the file towards Mayhew who stared intently at him and replied,
‘Shimasou is the thing that has been hunting down my friend, and that killed my
friend last night.’

O’Neill remained silent,
waiting for him to continue. A moment passed before he decided to speak and
said, ‘Who’s Shimasou and how do you know they are responsible for the murder
of Paul Wayans?’ His time was valuable and he was ready to hear anything that
actually meant something come out of the mouth of Todd Mayhew. So far he had
heard a lot of babble but nothing that actually gave him anything that he could
work with. He needed a lead.

‘It isn’t a person. It’s a
thing. And I’m one hundred percent certain that it killed Paul.’

The Special Agent was
riling the old man. His flippancy did not seem to take into consideration the life,
or death, of a man he had beaten twenty-four hours ago.

‘Paul told me he’d been
receiving letters, telling him he was being watched and threatening his life. I
didn’t believe him.’ There was a tone of genuine regret in O’Neill’s voice, and
he continued by attempting to deflect any sense of guilt or blame. ‘If somebody
was threatening
your
life, you’d contact the police, wouldn’t you?’