Urban Myth (20 page)

T
emple sensed that things were coming to a head. On the monitors nothing much was happening. Keaton remained seated on the sofa, exhausted and dispirited. The camera had been placed high up, shooting downward on the room. Wallis was having fun with the controls, zooming in slowly for close-ups of Keaton’s gaunt, terrified features.

His wife and kids continued to stare skywards, unaware of what fate had in store for them. Their ordeal was nothing short of barbaric.

Temple’s whole body was charged with fear and emotion. He didn’t want to die, especially not now that Angel had brought new meaning to his life. But even so he found it difficult to focus on the hopelessness of his own situation. His concern was for Jack Keaton and his family. He wanted to help them. He couldn’t bear to watch them suffering like this.

But there was nothing he could do except perhaps keep Roth and Wallis talking and hope for a miracle.

‘Did you kill Genna Boyd?’ he asked. ‘We had Nathan Slade in the frame, but he obviously didn’t do it.’

Roth stood up straight and folded his arms across his chest. As he looked down at Temple his furtive eyes became intense and menacing.

‘She got cold feet,’ he said. ‘We suspected she might. She called Keaton from the house to warn him. She’d arrived to meet us and because my car wasn’t here she thought the place was empty. But Belinda had dropped me off earlier and I was checking the cameras. I got to Genna before she could ring him back.’

‘And then you buried her on the moor.’

He nodded. ‘While Belinda abandoned Genna’s car in the city centre I took the body to Cranes Moor in Slade’s Citroën. But I fucked up. I rushed it. The grave should have been deeper and better hidden.’

‘But surely you’d had enough practice at digging graves,’ Temple said.

‘Those other times it was planned. The holes in the ground were dug in advance. With Genna it was different. A lot of other stuff was going on. We were working to a timetable and having to deal with her was a distraction.’

Temple shook his head. Talk about cold-blooded, he thought. This guy was a fucking monster.

He inhaled deeply and said, ‘So to begin with Genna was an
accomplice
in all of this?’

‘Of course she was. She’s been part of the team since the night she killed Jason Freemont. But when it came down to it she couldn’t bring herself to kill children. All our previous victims were either worthless tarts or pervy scumbags.’

Temple felt the skin on his face tighten. He said, ‘Tell me about Freemont.’

Roth took a breath and turned to check the screens. A soft smile brushed across his lips. He was clearly pleased with the way things were panning out.

‘Jason was the original member of the team,’ Roth said. ‘He started appearing in our bondage films and got a huge kick out of inflicting pain. It didn’t take me long to realize that he was just like us, so we started to use him on the snuffs. Sometimes he’d work alone, other times with me or Belinda.’

The cold, callous way that Roth referred to what he did sent a shiver up Temple’s spine.

‘So how did he come to be murdered by Genna?’ Temple asked.

Roth gave him a grim smile. ‘
She
was meant to be the victim. After picking her up off the street in Southampton he drove her to the
farmhouse
where we’d already set up the cameras. Genna was game for some S&M and was happy for Freemont to wear a mask. But after they got started she refused to be restrained because she didn’t know him. So he tried to put a sedative in her drink. She cottoned on and went ballistic. He then produced a knife and threatened her. Big mistake. She managed to grab it and use it on him. She was like a wild animal. I rushed into the bedroom to try to stop her but it was too late. She cut him up bad.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I managed to restrain her. After she’d calmed down I told her we needed to get away before the alarm was raised. Belinda had spotted someone on the driveway who must have heard all the screaming.’

‘Did Genna know what you had been up to?’ Temple asked.

Roth shook his head. ‘Not right away. But she was in shock so she let us get her dressed and out of the house. We considered killing her but I figured that would be a waste of her obvious talent. So we took her to her flat and gave her a choice – work with us or we’d send the tape of her killing Freemont to the police.’

‘And she agreed?’

‘She jumped at the chance. She said she’d been looking to get into porn for some time. And she admitted that slicing up Freemont had been a big turn-on. Make no mistake, Genna Boyd was a real head case. That’s the reason we didn’t get rid of her then. We saw that she had enormous potential. And we were right. It was a shame that she suddenly developed a conscience.’

‘How many people did she kill on camera?’

‘She didn’t actually kill anyone apart from Freemont,’ Roth said. ‘That’s my job. Genna would help us lure the punters in and drug them. Then I’d appear and do the business. But she would watch. She enjoyed that.’

‘After she was killed did you ransack her flat?’ Temple asked.

Roth nodded. ‘We wanted to find out if she had anything there that might incriminate us. We had a good look round and took her laptop, but we didn’t find anything.’

‘But you left her DVDs.’

‘We took the view that it didn’t matter because we knew you’d find out she was working for us anyway.’

Temple’s whole body felt numb and hollowed out. He now knew who had killed Genna Boyd. All the questions relating to her death had been answered. Crime solved. And yet it looked as though he’d be taking that knowledge to his grave. Nathan Slade would then be held responsible for the murders of Genna Boyd and the Keaton family. And when the movie featuring the Keatons eventually surfaced he’d be blamed for that too.

‘Let’s record the grand finale,’ Wallis said, breaking into Temple’s
thoughts. ‘I’ll put the wife and kids back on the TV.’

Roth nodded. ‘And I’ll go to the basement. Make sure you get good close-ups of Keaton’s face from the start.’

Temple cleared his throat and spoke with a nervous wheeze. ‘What are you going to do?’

Roth walked over to a low metal filing cabinet pushed up against the wall and Temple craned his neck to watch him. Roth then took off his shirt. Beneath it he was a muscular brute with a six-pack and solid pecs. He dropped the shirt onto the filing cabinet, then reached down to a rucksack on the floor. From this he took out a kitchen knife and a black rubber head mask with slits for the eyes and mouth.

Then his lips curled into a slow, cruel smile.

‘All great horror movies end with a bloodbath, Inspector,’ he said. ‘The youngsters will be shot and the mother will have her throat cut – as per the script. And to add to the drama we’ll record Jack Keaton watching it live on TV. It’ll be the most unforgettable scene ever shot.’

‘You sick bastards,’ Temple shouted. ‘This is insane. You’ll be arrested within days. There’s a ton of forensic evidence here.’

‘There soon won’t be,’ Roth said. ‘When we leave here tonight we’re going to set fire to the house. That’s how the movie will end – with Keaton burning alive. Then we’ll leave Slade’s car in town – complete with the murder weapons and traces of Genna’s blood. Oh, yeah, and we’ll have to get rid of you.’

Roth gave Wallis a kiss on the mouth before slipping the mask over his head. Temple winced. The crazy monster looked like a figure from a nightmare. As Roth moved towards the hatch Temple started yelling and begging for them to spare the family. But his entreaties fell on deaf ears.

‘If you don’t shut the fuck up you’ll get this in your eye,’ Wallis shouted.

She produced a hypodermic syringe from the breast pocket of her shirt and brandished it like a dagger.

Temple felt all vestige of hope desert him.

He clenched his eyes shut and started to pray.

I
sat on the sofa for several minutes, trying to silence the screaming in my head and the relentless thudding in my chest. I needed to pull myself together and focus. I had to find a way through the abject terror that was consuming me.

But when I opened my eyes a new wave of panic surged through my body. I took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, then let it out in a slow stream.

That’s when I noticed Nathan Slade’s guest folder, the one containing the information on the house and the forest. It was lying open on the coffee table, right in front of me.

It seized my attention because I recalled that Nicole had been reading it when I came back into the house after losing my temper with Michael. As I stared at it now I felt my forehead crease into a frown. What did it contain that had puzzled me when I first glanced through it? And why did I have the strangest feeling that whatever it was it might somehow be significant?

I reached over and picked it up. It was open somewhere in the middle. On the left side was the leaflet on the house.

I suddenly remembered what had struck me as odd about it. On the cover it described King’s Manor as a ‘stunning six-bedroom guest house’. Yet there were only five bedrooms. On the other side of the folder was a laminated A4 sheet containing typewritten information about the house, along with two small photos dated 1910.

One of the photos showed a man wearing a cloth cap who was pouring coal into a chute set into the ground at the rear of the house. The other photo was of Elizabeth Maddox, the widow of the original owner who was said to haunt the property.

Despite all that was happening I found myself intrigued by the
leaflet and the photos. It was as if a voice inside my head was telling me I should be seeing something here that wasn’t immediately obvious.

I opened the leaflet. It was well produced and in glossy colour. Inside was a montage of photos showing interior and exterior shots of King’s Manor. My eyes were drawn to one particular photo. I stared at it for a long time before what I was seeing fully registered.

It showed an exterior door at the bottom of a short concrete
stairwell
. The wording beneath it read:
One of our bedrooms is in the basement and has its own entrance at the rear of the house. What was once a large cellar for storing coal has been converted into beautifully appointed accommodation
.

Instinctively, I looked again at the photo of the cloth-capped man pouring coal into the chute. Had the chute been turned into the
basement
entrance? But if so why hadn’t I seen it? And why hadn’t Slade told us about the extra room?

I turned again to the leaflet and studied the other photos. There was one of the living room, and others showing the bedrooms and kitchen. The rooms did not look much different to how they looked now, though some of the wall colours had changed. But there was one exception – the hallway.

If I hadn’t been studying the photos so closely I probably would have missed it. But now I could see it clearly. In the alcove under the stairs there was a door and it was slightly open.

I dropped the folder on the table and hurried into the hallway. The muscles in my stomach clenched as I stared into the spacious alcove. Where the door should have been there was a wall with patterned wallpaper and several framed pictures. It was immediately obvious what had happened. Both entrances to the basement bedroom had been blocked off and concealed.

But why?

I was about to move closer to see if the old door was still there when I heard a noise in the living room.

It sounded like an explosion of static and I realized that the TV had ‘magically’ come back on.

I rushed back into the living room. Shock and outrage forced a shrill moan out of my mouth when I saw what was on the screen. I fell to my
knees in front of the TV, then reached out and ran the tips of my fingers across the glass.

Nicole, Tina, Michael.

It was a scene straight out of hell. I had to will myself not to buckle under the crushing weight of despair. But at least they were together – and alive.

They were secured to a bed with black tape. Their eyes were open, thank goodness. Tina and Michael were moving their heads and looking around fearfully. But Nicole’s head remained still and she stared straight at me.

Or rather straight at the friggin’ camera.

The picture changed suddenly and I saw the bed from a different angle. It was a wide shot this time, revealing more of the room they were in. I saw bedside tables, a brown carpet, a wall with a door set in it.

Something in my brain sizzled and I began to feel dizzy. I tried to concentrate, to focus, to think.

A bedroom. It had to be close by. The cameras must have been linked to the television. And then it clicked: the basement. My family were in the fucking basement. Right below where I was standing. It explained a lot, and at the same time raised a whole set of new
questions
.

Go get them
, screamed a voice in my head.
You know the way. Go now
.

But just then the door on the far side of the basement room was thrown open. I watched, mesmerized, as a bare-chested figure wearing a black mask stepped into the room. In one hand he carried a shotgun, in the other a large knife.

Fear clutched at my stomach as I watched the hulking figure tower over my family. He was no ghostly apparition; he was real and he was terrifying.

I could see the blood rush into my wife’s face as she fought
desperately
to wriggle free.

The man stepped up to them. His movements were slow, deliberate, and it was clear he wanted to prolong the terror. He shoved the knife into his belt and reached over to rip the strip of tape from Michael’s mouth. The boy immediately let out a pitiful scream before he started coughing and choking on his own phlegm.

The man then leaned over Michael and tore the strip from Tina’s mouth. She started gulping in air like someone who’d been saved from drowning. What was happening was truly grotesque and inhuman. I could barely believe it wasn’t part of some horrific nightmare.

Don’t just stand there. Do something. Find the door. There’s still time
.

The voice in my head jarred me into action. I forced my eyes away from the screen and dashed across the room. In the hallway I made straight for the alcove below the stairs and began searching frantically for its guilty secret. It did not take me long to find it. There was no handle, but up close I could see the outline of the door, which, from a distance, was camouflaged by the patterned wallpaper. The frame had been removed so the door was flush against the wall.

I tried pushing at it but it wouldn’t give and there was no way I could get my fingers in the gap to try to prise it open. So I used brute force. One, two, three heavy kicks and the door crashed inwards, taking a large chunk of plasterboard with it. Ahead of me was a short wooden staircase. At the bottom was another door and it stood open. Through it I could see the brown carpet I’d just seen on the TV.

As I started down the stairs, I prayed that I wasn’t too late to save my family.