‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to tell people what happened to me. I want everyone to know what those bastards did. There’s gonna be reporters and all sorts there. The story will be everywhere. That’s why I was going to top myself. I knew it would make the papers. I knew they would be called to account. There’s enough evidence there to put them away. That’s all I wanted. To see them brought to justice. Nothing more. Killing’s too good for those bastards. It would be over too quickly. I want them to suffer. I want to ruin their lives the way they’ve ruined mine. I wanted to be the last thing they thought about every night before they went to bed. I’m not saying any more, not until the press are right in front of me.’
Collins sighed. ‘But, Billy, the press won’t come unless they know what the story is going to be about. You have to give me a taster. Something I can interest them with.’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘Tell me when you started following them.’
Moorwood dragged the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed. ‘It was after the case. Half of those bastards managed to get away with it. They lied and used the fact that people were still scared of them. It was like they had planned it out from the start. They were teachers, they were respected members of the community. We trusted them. They can’t treat kids that way. They thought they were above the law. They’re not. I had to make them pay.’
‘So you killed them.’
Moorwood’s eyes widened. ‘Killing’s too good for them. I told you that. I just followed them. I just wanted to scare them. That’s all. I don’t know anything about anyone ending up dead. But I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not sorry to hear it. Not sorry at all.’
*
Jason Bevan’s fingers trembled with excitement as he turned on his computer.
After what had seemed like a lifetime of waiting, the day when he was going to meet up with his latest conquest had finally arrived.
The machine seemed to take ages to boot up, and when the usual musical notes played to say it was ready he felt a new rush passing through him. Bevan didn’t want to come across as being overeager. He had fought hard to stay cool. He glanced at the clock in the bottom-right-hand corner of the screen: eleven thirty. Time to make the final arrangements for their lunch. He double-clicked on the messenger program, moistening his lips with his tongue as it loaded.
sportsfan52: hi – how are u
shygirl351: nervous
shygirl351: and excited
sportsfan52: good – neither is a bad thing
shygirl351: lol
shygirl351: that must mean we’re still on then
sportsfan52: correct – ready to go
sportsfan52: have u told anyone about our meeting
shygirl351: nope
shygirl351: not a soul
shygirl351: have you?
sportsfan52: no
shygirl351: wow
shygirl351: where shall we meet then
sportsfan52: not sure. Would normally say pub but guess that is out of the question
shygirl351: lol
shygirl351: have been in more than you think – make up works wonders
sportsfan52: shall we do a pub then
shygirl351: rather not. hate being in pubs on my own. What if you were late
sportsfan52: I’ll be early
sportsfan52: If you like – just ring my phone when you arrive and I will come outside
shygirl351: have a better idea
shygirl351: do you know Gladstone park
sportsfan52: yes, what about it
shygirl351: there’s a bench by the rotunda, opposite the pond
shygirl351: me and my mates used to hang out there. Could meet there
sportsfan52: would be private. Sounds good. Let’s do it. Four thirty?
shygirl351: great
shygirl351: can’t wait
shygirl351: bye
He had arranged it all perfectly. His wife was away for the night visiting her parents and the children were over at friends’ for a sleepover. Despite having had less than twenty-four hours’ notice, he now had the place to himself. He would be able to do whatever he liked knowing he would not be disturbed.
Shygirl had been by far the best of the bunch and his favourite from the start. There had been others that he had chatted to over the preceding months but this was to be his first actual meeting.
Another young girl had seemed interested at first but she had gone a little cold. She didn’t respond in the flirtatious way that this girl did. He struggled for a moment to think of her screen name. DreamGirl99, that had been it. If she had been a bit more forthcoming he would have arranged a meeting with her as well. Instead he had put her on the back burner a couple of days earlier to pursue Shygirl instead. If things went well, he could always return to her at a later date. He was on a roll.
The hours seemed to drag by until it was time to leave. He checked his appearance in the mirror. Teeth clean, clean shaven, hair washed and neatly styled. He looked younger than his forty-two years, which was good, though he had been open and honest about his age right from the start and the girl didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, if anything, she had been increasingly excited by the prospect of meeting up with him.
In the circles that he moved in, such girls were highly sought after and they generated a great deal of excitement. He would be able to teach her everything. She would be able to give him the ultimate pleasure. She would, for a few years at least, be everything he could ever want her to be. Better still, he would be able to use her to draw in others, perhaps to enhance his standing among his community, sharing her out and swapping her with his peers.
He tried not to get ahead of himself. He couldn’t blow it at this stage. He had put too much time and too much effort into the girl so far. He had to be so slow, so cunning. Above all he had to be careful. It’s easy to avoid giving the game away when every response can be carefully thought out. It’s a very different matter when you are in the midst of a free-flowing conversation. shygirl351 still did not know that Sally, the girl that had introduced them, had actually been him all along and he had to ensure he said nothing that would give it away.
And he had to think about the future. None of this was going to last for ever. All good things, he knew only too well, would have to come to an end. He could have his fun for now but ultimately there would come a time when he would have to replace her with a younger model.
It was a beautifully sunny afternoon, the pale blue sky dotted with thin wisps of pure white cloud and the odd snaking white jet stream left by high-flying aircraft. He sucked in a deep breath of air, then turned and headed down his front path towards his garden gate.
Somewhere at the back of his subconscious mind he registered the fact that the street seemed to be a little quieter than usual. Several of his neighbours were retired or elderly and could usually be found in their front gardens. No one was walking their dog. A few curtains twitched on the opposite side of the street.
He was still pondering this when the sound of heavy footfalls from behind snapped him out of his daydream. He turned just in time to see a large man, his mop of blond hair flying up in the wind, his tie flapping behind his neck, bearing down on him at high speed.
Before he could say a word the man had launched himself towards him in a vicious rugby tackle that knocked Bevan down to the ground and forced all the wind out of him. As he lay gasping for breath, clutching at his sore ribs and trying to rub his bruised shoulder, the rest of them appeared.
They came from all directions. Men in suits, men and women in police uniforms. So many of them that he quickly lost count. They emerged from behind cars; they vaulted over hedges; they appeared from around corners – and all of them were rushing towards him.
The blond man was now on top of him, forcing his shoulders down and squeezing at one of the pressure points close to his neck. He had yet to say a word.