AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And it’s a good confession too. Believable—that all a worthless prick like you wants is to be known for creating something brilliant. But we didn’t finish, did we? It was my day.” Noah can see the rage growing behind his eyes, the telltale signs of Shenton losing his normal restraint. “My mother left me when I was three,” he spits. “The first of February 1990.” He jabs at Deakin with each word, his long slim finger in Noah’s face. “She left me with those bastards,” Shenton continues, his face red. “And this should have been my masterpiece, Noah. To celebrate that bitch. One girl! One? I wanted more, that other one, hanging up there with her.”
Deakin’s always guessed at some strange motivation behind Shenton’s plan. His specificity with the date. “You’re such a cliché,” he growls. “Blaming your fucked-up mind on your absent mother. At least own it. At least accept responsibility for what you’ve done. You enjoy it, you bastard. That’s why you torture. That’s why you rape.”
Shenton scoffs at his words, his lip curling with disgust. “Nobody’s born evil, Noah. You should know that. It took my influence to get you to kill. Me who persuaded you to fuck Jessica Ambrose in the restroom.” Shenton smiles, regaining control. “You may have got a fuck out of her, but I wanted my turn.” His face flushes with excitement at the thought. “I bet she would have been good too. I bet she’d have fought.”
Noah remembers the hollow feeling in his stomach, propositioning that woman at the school gates, surrounded by all those kids. “I didn’t want to screw her,” he mutters in reply.
“But you did, Noah. You did.” He reaches forward, gently tapping Deakin’s cheek with the palm of his hand, condescendingly. “And consensual sex has never been my thing. We needed leverage, something to mess with her and her lovely doctor friend. Not that the threat of a nasty violent death wasn’t enough.” He laughs. “And besides, I needed the time to prepare. Busy night ahead. A house to set on fire, people to kill.” He says this coolly, and Noah remembers the heads cut off at the Kemper scene and then the murdered woman, the baby in her tummy.
He’d done as Shenton asked: leaving his car in Cranbourne Woods on that Monday night, then walking the ten miles home. Hating himself for it, but fearing the consequences if he refused. The same on Friday, absent as Cara discovered apartment 214 with Griffin.
“I wanted to see how long she’d live,” Shenton continues, his voice steadier now. “Stretch out the kill, really have some fun. See how much I could chop apart before she died. And then Elliott finds us.” Toby lets out a disappointed sigh. “You lost your nerve, you dickless fuck. It could have been brilliant.”
Shenton leans forward so his face is barely inches away from Noah’s. Deakin can smell the sour odor of stale coffee. “She doesn’t believe you.”
“So? What can I do about that?” Deakin snarls.
Toby smiles, a leer of triumph. “Finish the job you started,” he carries on, softly. “Kill yourself.”
The words hang in the room, septic and rotten.
“They’ll end it then,” Shenton continues. “They’ll wrap up the case. With a confession and a dead killer, they won’t look for anyone else.”
But Noah’s not the same man he was back then. The past few years have taken their toll, but he’s ready for prison. Even though he’s a cop, it’s going to be a fucking holiday camp compared to this. He’s met Shenton. There’s nobody worse behind bars.
Shenton sees Noah’s reluctance and sits back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I meant what I said all those months ago. Or do you think I won’t?”
Noah feels the blood rush from his face. The one bargaining chip Shenton had, used as he felt his grip on Noah weakening.
Cara.
“I’ll kill her.”
“Leave her alone.”
Deakin feels sick. He remembers the sight of that girl hanging in the woods, how he could barely keep up the charade when he realized what Shenton had done. And when Cara had turned up? He knew what Toby would do. He knew he’d kill her.
Noah would do anything to protect her.
Shenton smiles. “It’s almost touching, your love for that slut.” He laughs. “You’ve confessed to over thirty murders, just so I won’t touch a hair on her pretty little head. But what makes you think I’ll uphold my end of the bargain? Especially if she still thinks you’re innocent.” He stops, his eyes are narrowed, staring at Noah.
“You’re just a sick fucker, aren’t you?” Deakin snarls.
Shenton laughs. “I guess so. But can you blame me? Not everyone has the idyllic missing dad, drug-overdosed mom that you enjoyed, Noah. I had a father and an uncle, sure, but once they’d finished using me as their own personal plaything, they’d beat the shit out of me and laugh as I cried. Is it any wonder I get my fun in a different way?” He sees Noah’s glare, and his face mirrors his disgust. “Don’t pretend you’re any different, Deakin.”
“I am,” he growls. “I could never have done what you did to Lauren. I couldn’t rape Mia. Or those other women.”
“But you beat the shit out of Griffin! I saw you, Noah! I saw you as you hit him again and again with that bit of wood. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that—not one little, tiny bit?”
Noah shakes his head, staring at the desk. He knows what he did was wrong. But what he’d done—killing that girl, beating Griffin—was nothing in comparison to what Shenton had done. He can’t let Toby go free. He can’t.
“You know what I’m capable of, Noah. You know what I’d do to Cara. You kill yourself, and the case is closed. You get your ending. I get mine.”
Deakin feels the panic build, his heart starting to beat faster. He feels the walls close in.
“I even know how I’d do it.” Shenton sits back in his chair. He nonchalantly picks at his nails. “Twenty-five Cromwell Street ring any bells?”
Noah’s head snaps up.
