Daddy Long Legs (38 page)

Kyle is a young boy again.

He awakes in the middle of the night. Something has disturbed his slumber. But he doesn’t know what. He groggily climbs out of bed. And knuckles sleepy eyes.

The night is moon beautiful. Cool and clear. And yet something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

Little Kyle opens the door to his bedroom and peers into the corridor. With growing fear he steps into the dark corridor. At the end of the hallway is a door. Slightly ajar. He takes a step towards this door. And another.

With each step his fear widens.

And another.

Until his terror is a huge gaping hole.

And another.

A terrifying chasm that is about to swallow him whole.

He takes another step.

Something is terribly
terribly
wrong.

Oh God no.

And another.

There is something beyond the door. Something his egg-shell childhood mind knows on some primordial level to be wrong. So terribly wrong.

He takes another step. His hand is on the door handle.

And he twists it.

And steps inside.

It’s dark. It’s his mother’s room.

Oh God no. Oh dear God no.

Something so terribly wrong.

He’s standing in the darkened room.

A pool of moonlight illuminates his mother’s bed.

No. No. No. No!!!

His mother jumps from the bed. Naked. Sweat glistens on her body.

She reaches for the bed sheet. To cover her nakedness.

Oh dear God. Please. No.

She pulls the bed sheet.

And reveals a naked shape beneath her.

NO! NO! NO!

It is Ryan. His brother.

It’s Ryan.

And he is lying naked underneath her.

Naked. And prone. Frozen in place.

He is staring with terrified eyes at Kyle.

No.

Kyle awoke violently.

The remnants of the dream churning inside his mind.

‘Jesus, no,’ Kyle whispered to himself in the darkness as the last embers of the terrifying dream fizzled in his mind.

Terrifying because it was more than a dream. It was a suppressed memory.

‘Oh God no. Dear God no...’

For more than twenty years he had been living with a dark and terrible secret. Buried deep within his mind. Six feet within the dark soil of his consciousness. A fetid rotting secret that only dared rear its ugly head within his dreams. Too warped and perverse to ever see the light of day. Too sick to occupy a place in his battered memory.

Until now.

A hot moonlit night. A restless boy. Awaking from an agitated slumber. Strolling down a dark corridor. And into his mother’s room. Into a sordid reality. The very next morning the memory had already been buried.

Until now.

Kyle forced his eyes open. To welcome the light. To banish the dream. And the memory. To some forgotten place. But instead of light. There was only darkness.

Kyle blinked hard. Twice. Three times. And yet the darkness pervaded everything. Permeated everything. It was total. Complete.

He reached out for the little bed lamp on the night stand. And found himself constricted. Both his arms wedged tightly against his body.

He was tied up!

‘What the – ?’ The explosion of words dislodged a bolt of pain in his injured head. ‘Damn,’ he said, softer this time. Allowing the freight train to pass through his brain.

What in God’s name was going on?

He cast his mind back to the previous evening. To a wild night of drinking. And dark confessions.

He remembered the episode with the drunken detective. And the terrified family. And then. And then? And then ... there was nothing.

What the hell was this?

Kyle felt annoyance flare up in him. Felt slow anger grow. This was some hick’s idea of a joke. Somebody was having fun. At his expense. Kyle thought of Engelman. Who else could it be? Especially now that he and Odette had re-kindled their relationship. Engelman had more than enough reason to lash out at his old nemesis. Screw you, Engelman, Kyle thought.

In the darkness, he sensed someone moving. And then. The scrape of shoe against a concrete floor. Someone was right in front of him.

‘Engelman! Fuck you, man. This is not funny, you prick.’ Kyle peered into the darkness, trying to discern the shape of the Hope detective. ‘Stop this shit, right now. Or I’ll have your badge, you bloody redneck.’

And then he heard it. A low throaty chuckle. Sinister in the darkness. And something else. There was something oddly familiar about the low laugh. Something.

There was a click. And then brilliant blinding light.

Kyle threw his head aside. And clenched his eyes tightly shut. Another bolt of pain shot through his foggy mind. ‘Shit!’

He turned his head forward. Downward. And slowly opened his eyes. Allowing himself to adjust to the dazzling light. Before him was a pair of heavy boots. He slowly looked up.

Kyle felt the blood drain from his face. His legs grew weak. And his entire world reeled and swam before his eyes.

He was looking into the face of his dead brother.

Into the face of Ryan Devlin.

***

Detective Wayne Human stood at the front gate of the house on Fifth Avenue.

He looked around. The street was nothing like an avenue. And unpaved, it was hardly a street at all. Slowly Detective Human unlatched the gate. And entered the formed abode of Elsa Jane Devlin. Deceased mother to Kyle and Ryan Devlin.

Human plucked his service pistol from his shoulder holster. And carefully moved along the neat walkway that divided the front yard in two.

Right from the beginning he had harboured vague doubts. Unformed suspicions. That something just wasn’t right. That there was more to the recent spate of activities than meets the eye. Although he had never dared admit it to himself, he had suspected, deep inside his mind, that the new crimes were the work of someone other than Daddy Long Legs. The impersonation had been so immaculate and perfect – so complete – that the copycat had even fooled an experienced profiler. Yes. His suspicions had always been there. But never – in his wildest boldest dreams – could he ever have guessed the identity of the copycat.

Looking at the image on the screen of the Blackberry, he had immediately recognised something in the tight lips and the petulant sweep of the nose. But it was only when he had seen a weathered photo of Ryan Devlin that he had made the connection. To say that the shocked realisation had socked him right between the eyes was an understatement. Never could he have suspected that the copycat was none other than Daddy Long Legs’s final victim. The awful truth of it had strained reality. Had yanked his entire view of the world asunder. And left him with a dark hole in his soul. As an experienced detective, he had seen death. He had seen evil in all its forms. He had seen heartbreak and desperation in all its forms. As an experienced policeman, he had seen everything. Or so he thought.

Human slowly moved off the path and around the house. In his pocket, he felt the weight of his dead cell phone. He only hoped Lerato had received his message. He didn’t dare go back and summon re-enforcements. There was too much at stake. Too much time had already elapsed. Everything depended on his action in the next few minutes. He had faced far greater danger. And he would face this new menace too. Alone. If that was what it took.

He slowly moved around the corner of the old house. His gun raised.

He was ready.

***

Kyle stared. Dumbfounded. Thunderstruck. Numb.

‘Ryan.’ His voice was barely a whisper. A thin whimper of disbelief. ‘Ryan?’ Thick tears welled up in Kyle’s eyes.

‘Hello there, older brother.’ Ryan smiled a thin menacing smile. ‘We meet again.’

Hot tears flowed freely from Kyle’s eyes. Running in torrents down his cheeks. Down his neck. And into the neckline of his t-shirt. ‘Ryan? Oh dear God, you’re alive. Dear God, you’re alive.’ Kyle sobbed uncontrollably. His mouth was distorted in a gaping slit of agony.

‘Oh yes, I’m alive, dear brother.’  He threw a twisted hand into the air. ‘More alive than you can possibly imagine.’ He jumped forward and grabbed Kyle’s chin in a powerful grip. ‘But I guarantee you ...
dear God
... has nothing to do with it.’

Kyle blinked hard. Confused. Shattered. ‘Ryan, what ... I don’t under –’ He looked at his gloating brother, his eyes swimming with tears. ‘What – what happened? How –’

And then. In the corner. Something caught his eye. Movement. Through a sheet of tears he could hardly discern anything. He blinked hard. And again. And then he realised what he was looking at.

His heart exploded with shock. His mind reeled with confusion.

It was the shape of a boy.

In the corner. A boy in a cage. Grabbing onto the bars of a cage. And staring with desperation at Kyle. At the same time, Kyle realised where he was. It was the basement of a house. Their house. Their mother’s house. The house of their youth.

The world reeled. Swam before his eyes. And danced. A dance macabre.

Kyle turned his gaze to his brother. He shook his head, as if trying to shake the disbelief from his mind. But his younger brother held his chin firmly in a powerful grip. Nothing made sense. Nothing added up. What was the boy doing in the cage? What was Ryan and Kyle doing in their mother’s old house. And why the hell was he tied up?

And then. Like a blow to his solar plexus. Kyle understood.

Everything within him had fought it. Everything that was good and pure within him had denied it. But now. Staring at his brother. With the whimpering boy in the background. Now.

He understood.

‘Jesus, Ryan. How could you?’ The words were a fierce whisper. Spoken by someone else. In another world. In another time. ‘Jesus, Ryan. No. No. No. Please tell me it’s not true.’ Anguished sobs racked Kyle’s body. His entire body heaved painfully against the restraints of the ropes around him. ‘Oh God, Ryan. No. Please, no.’ Kyle wailed in utter torment, his eyes clenched tight. His mouth an open twisted maw of grief. Fresh tears flowed from his shut eyes. ‘What happened? Dear God, Ryan, what happened to you?’

Still gripping his brother by his chin, Ryan Devlin was unmoved by his brother’s anguish. Cold calculating eyes observed his brother. Like a butterfly, pinned to a board. ‘What happened?’ Ryan twisted his head. And gave a little jerk. And a twisted snarl. ‘What happened?’ He snapped Kyle’s head against the pillar to which he was tied. And jumped back. ‘I’ll tell you what happened, dear brother.’ He pointed at Kyle. ‘You happened, for one thing.’ The hand pointed accusingly at Kyle trembled with the force of his emotions. ‘Whatever happened to “I’ll always protect you”? Huh? Whatever happened to “I’ll never let anything happen to you”? Huh?’ He stared black venom at Kyle. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what happened.’ He pointed at himself. ‘This happened.’ He pointed at the terrified Alexander Joemat, encaged in the corner. ‘That happened.’ He made a large circle with his hand. ‘All of this happened, dear brother.  All of this. All because you let yourself be ruled by your cock. All because you were off, chasing whores. Instead of looking after your FUCKING brother.’ Ryan stepped forward and clutched his brother’s face in both hands. ‘All of this happened because of you, Kyle.’ His brother’s name was spat out.

‘Ryan, I’m so sorry,’ Kyle sputtered through sobs. ‘I’m so sorry. I never – I never ever ... ever meant for this to happen. Please ... oh dear God ... believe me. Please. I’m so sorry.’

‘
You’re
sorry. No brother dearest. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. That means nothing. Nothing at all.’ Ryan shoved Kyle’s head against the pillar. Then spun away. ‘You made a promise to me that day, Kyle. You promised me you would take care of me. You promised me that you would return. Twenty minutes, you said, Kyle. Twenty minutes!’ He whirled around. ‘Oh yes, by the way, thank you for the Leon Schuster tape. I was finally able to collect it.’ Ryan fell on his knees, both hands raised to the heavens. ‘OH WHAT SWEET INDESCRIBALE FUCKING JOY!’ The scream bounced off the walls of the musty subterranean room. In the corner, the boy recoiled, pushing himself into the furthest corner of the iron cage. Against the pillar, Kyle stopped sobbing. And looked at his brother with shock. For the first time, he felt fear. Real fear. Cloying. Claustrophobic. And pungent. For the first time in his life ... he feared his brother. Twenty years ago, on the muddy banks of the Orange River, he had lost Ryan. His brother. And his closest friend. The person – the creature – now before him ... was no longer that person.

Ryan jumped to his feet. ‘Oh thank God for Leon fucking Schuster.’ He laughed. A thin, high-pitched cackle. An obscene rattle. Pouring from his throat, and like wet pebbles, bouncing off the walls of the basement.

Then he stopped. And froze. He whipped his head around. A thin smile of pure menace spread across his lips. ‘I do believe we have company.’ From his belt, he pulled a small revolver. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, while I take care of our uninvited guest.’ With careful measured strides, he crossed the distance to the staircase that led to the house above. Taking care to displace as little weight as possible, he quietly moved up the creaking stairs.

***

Human tested the door at the back of the house. It was unlocked. Carefully depressing the handle, he opened the door. And entered. Outside, the last rays of sun bronzed the uppermost tree branches. Inside, however, the house was dark. Human paused for a few seconds, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. He was in the kitchen.

He looked around carefully before moving on. The house was exactly as Elsa Jane Devlin had left it. Exactly as it had been on her last day on earth.

Human moved carefully through the spacious kitchen. Crouched low. Every single muscle in his body tense with anticipation. His gun held out before him.

Somebody screamed. From beneath him, it resounded thickly through the empty house. Human almost jumped into the air. And had to restrain his taut body.

He was in the right place. And the killer was mere metres away from him. Somewhere down below.

Human stepped slowly across the kitchen floor. At the kitchen entrance he grabbed the door frame and stepped gingerly onto the linoleum floor of the corridor. The wooden floor creaked long and languidly. ‘Shit,’ he whispered under his breath. He only hoped the sound hadn’t given away his presence.

He was wrong.

Using an old police trick, Human hugged the wall of the corridor, and stepped on the wooden flooring closest to the wall. Here the wooden boards would yield the least. And make the least sound. Carefully. Step by step. He inched his way along the long hallway.

And then he heard it. A creak. Somebody was upstairs with him.

Human froze. Silent. Alert. Waiting for the other person to make the first move.

He waited. And waited. There was nothing. Maybe he got it wrong. An old house like this was full of creaks and groans. He waited for a moment longer. Maybe the killer hadn’t heard the creaking floor. Maybe the killer didn’t know there was someone in the house. Maybe, if he moved carefully and slowly, maybe, he could still surprise the killer. And end it all. Right now.