Dark Truth

1

D

espite the chill in the room, he was dripping with sweat.

It was one of those nights where he struggled to get to sleep and just tossed and turned trying to get comfortable.

He sat up, turned on his bedside lamp then turned on the radio. He tuned it into Classic FM but kept the volume fairly low — hoping the soothing orchestral rhythms would help him drift off.

Outside the apartment a man stood in the side passage. It was dark and he was wearing black clothing including a balaclava; it would be nearly impossible for anyone out on the street to see him from where he was.

He started to work away at the window — having forced open many windows before he had got it down to a fine art — he would have it open in less than thirty seconds.  When there was enough of a gap he slid his gloved right hand in and turned the locking mechanism, then grabbing the edge of the window frame he pulled it gently towards him. With the window fully open he hauled himself up and climbed through.

He was now in the living room; the room was not in pitch darkness as there was a slight glow coming from the digital clock on the oven in the kitchenette. He listened to see if he could make out any noise coming from upstairs — he could hear nothing; it was deathly silent.

He started moving slowly towards the stairs being careful not to walk into or step on something. As he started creeping up the stairs he hoped the treads would not creek, which he believed they shouldn’t as the apartment was fairly new.

On reaching the top of the stairs he could see the bathroom at the top of the landing as the door was wide open. Just before he reached the very top of the stairs he stopped suddenly— he could hear something, it was the sound of snoring and it was coming from the main bedroom, the door of which was slightly ajar.

When he reached the bedroom door he took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open. He moved a couple of steps forward then stopped and looked towards the bed — his victim was lying on it fast asleep. When he was at the foot of the bed he removed a knife from his pocket, then leant forward and started carefully pulling the duvet down towards the bottom of the bed — his victim was naked from the waist up. Once he had done this he moved to the left side of the bed near to his victim’s head.

Now was the time to slit his throat, he leant over his victim and slowly lowered his left hand to cover his mouth but as he did his victims eyes slowly opened, this surprised him and for a second he panicked.

At first he thought he was dreaming but he soon realised to his horror that this was all too real, someone had broken into his home to murder him.

He had to do something quick; he went to move to his left but just as he did his attacker clamped his hand down hard over his mouth and quickly raised the knife above his shoulder.

He managed to remove the attacker's hand from his mouth using both his hands and then began to roll to his left, but he wasn’t quite quick enough and the knife plunged deep into the side of his neck.

Due to the adrenaline, he didn’t feel anything immediately but he instinctively used his right hand to cover the wound as he tried to get off the bed, but he couldn’t do it quickly enough as his attacker plunged the knife in between his shoulder blades then repeatedly stabbed him in the back with a series of short sharp jabs.

He could now feel the pain and he could feel himself getting weaker and weaker as his attacker continued to stab him relentlessly.

2

T

he conditions were near perfect; there was only a very gentle breeze. His location afforded him an ideal view of the occupant’s back garden.

He was situated on a small hill approximately 150 yards away — he was well concealed amongst some thick brush. He had been waiting patiently for nearly thirty minutes now and knew it was a case of when, not if his target came out into the back garden, especially given it was a lovely late summer’s night.

He looked at his watch; it was almost half ten — then out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a silhouette move past the rear patio doors. He looked through the red dot sight of his rifle but there was no one at the patio door. He was glad he had recently invested in a bipod to rest his rifle on so he wouldn’t have to hold it. He wasn’t a bad shot but practising on static objects was one thing, trying to hit a moving target was a completely different proposition.

There was still no sign of movement but he was prepared to wait it out for another hour or two if need be — the pay off would be worth it. Just then he started to feel some light drops of rain on his forehead, this was the last thing he needed, if it turned into a full-on downpour that would pretty much end any hope of his target going outside.

The rain did get worse but fortunately it only lasted for fifteen minutes before it completely stopped. A few minutes beforehand his target had stood by the patio door briefly looking out across the garden, no doubt checking to see if the rain was beginning to ease. Now that the rain had stopped, surely she would be going out into the garden very shortly he thought to himself.

He got his wish soon after as just a couple of minutes later he saw the patio door slide open and his target walk slowly out onto the patio. She walked towards the end of the garden, when she was almost at the end she stopped and started looking around. He saw this as his chance — he looked through the sight and aligned the red dot right in between her eyes then gently rested his right forefinger on the trigger. He could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his body; he needed to control his breathing so he started breathing gently through his nose. 

‘On the count of three,’ he said to himself. ‘Three, two, one.’

On the count of one he exhaled and squeezed the trigger — a split second later his target slumped to the ground. He didn’t need to wait around to confirm the kill; he knew he had executed the perfect shot. He detached the rifle from the bipod then put them both in his sports holdall before making his way down the far side of the hill where he had parked his car.

3

J

oe walked through the front door and made his way upstairs to the reception area. He was late — he had planned to get into the office for eight thirty but it was almost twenty past nine. He had slept in and had to rush to get ready so he could make it into the office in time for a meeting with a client at nine-thirty. When he made it to the top of the stairs he saw that his secretary Jackie was sitting at her desk typing away as efficiently as ever. She looked up when she felt his presence.

‘Well better late than never Joe, I was just about to call you on your mobile — my God you look dreadful!’

‘Good morning to you too, Jackie,’ Joe replied slightly sarcastically.

Jackie had been Joe’s secretary/receptionist for the past five years; she was sixty-two and widowed. To Joe she looked at least ten years younger than her age. Her husband who had been five years older than her had died eight years ago from a heart attack.

‘Believe me, I feel even worse, be a love and make me a cup of strong coffee will you.’

‘What was it, another nightmare?’

‘Yes, the same one where an intruder breaks into my apartment and stabs me to death in my own bed before I am able to get away.’

‘Just like how Liam was murdered. Joe, I really think you should see someone about this, the dreams seem to be becoming more and more frequent.’

‘What, you mean a psychiatrist?’

‘Well, it couldn’t do any harm — it’s only natural that someone would suffer from some sort of trauma and anxiety if they went through what you did last year.’

She was referring to a case Joe had been working on last year when he was hired by a mother to try and find her son who was suspected of committing suicide as his car was found abandoned at the Lea Bridge in Hackney — a known local suicide hot spot.

Her son was an upcoming young footballer called Liam Devlin. The mother was convinced he was still alive as his body was never recovered and she had received an unwritten postcard of Rio de Janeiro that had been postmarked in Rio. She had also received a few phone calls where the caller didn’t speak apart from a couple where they just said ‘Mum’ in a whispered tone. Joe had managed to track Liam down and was in the process of trying to gain his trust in order to persuade him to come home when he was murdered only a few hours after he had managed to find him.

‘I think it’s more a case of guilt as I can’t help feeling somewhat responsible for his death.’

Joe knew this was the real reason — it was also the main reason why his relationship to Liam’s mother Sally had not lasted. They had gotten close after Liam’s death but Joe knew even back then it was for the wrong reasons. Joe was the one who had managed to find Liam and was the last person to see him alive — this was what drew Sally close to him. She needed to cling to Joe as he believed she saw him as some kind of last remnant of Liam. Joe found it hard to get close to her due to the nagging guilt he felt at not being able to bring her son back safely to her.

‘Joe, it was not your fault, there is no way you could have prevented his death, but whatever the reason for this recurring nightmare I really think you should see someone about it.’

‘I will think about it.’

Joe could see that Jackie was looking at a used car dealership website.

‘Are you thinking of getting a new car?’

‘More than just thinking about it I am going to get one. I have narrowed it down to two; it will either be a 2020 Vauxhall Astra with thirty-five thousand miles on the clock or 2019 Nissan Primera which has done twenty-three thousand miles. Which one do you think I should get?’

‘I would probably go for the Astra but if I were you I would arrange to take them both for a test drive first before making your decision. You only bought your last car a few years ago — I must be paying too much.’

‘Ha, I wish, I will be getting it on finance this time. I will bring you your coffee as soon as it’s ready, Joe.’

‘Thanks’

Joe walked into his office and sat down behind his desk. He got out the notes Jackie had made when she had spoken to this potential client who was due imminently. The client was actually a married couple, a Mr and Mrs Archer. Their six-year-old daughter Laura had gone missing from their street in the neighbouring London district of Wanstead just three weeks ago. The initial suspect was a known paedophile who had recently been released from prison and had moved to the local area six months prior but the police had not been able to find any evidence that linked him to her disappearance.

A couple of minutes later there was a knock on his office door; Jackie opened it and advised Joe that the Archers were waiting in reception — Joe asked her to show them in.

When they walked in Joe guessed that they were both in their thirties. Mrs Archer was a petite woman with dark brown hair worn in a stylish bob, by contrast Mr Archer was well over six foot in height and looked to Joe as if he was into working out as he was very muscular in appearance.

‘Please take a seat, Mr and Mrs Archer, would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

‘No thanks,’ answered Mrs Archer.

‘Yes, I will have a coffee please, milk, no sugar,’ Mr Archer replied.

‘No problem.’

Joe called Jackie on their internal line.

‘Could you make a cup of coffee for Mr Archer, Jackie, milk with no sugar, thanks.’

‘So, you would like me to try and find your missing daughter Laura, Mr and Mrs Archer?’

‘Yes we would, we have been told you are the best in the business for finding missing persons. We know you managed to track down that young footballer last year who fled to South America, even though it ended tragically when he was murdered shortly after you found him as a result of a burglary gone wrong.’

Joe was not going to correct Mr Archer as to the real circumstances behind Liam’s murder. He couldn’t even if he wanted to as he was bound by the Official Secrets Act which he signed when he embarked on his previous career working for MI6 as a counterintelligence agent.

‘Then there were the two students a few years ago who had gone to live off grid in some hippie commune without telling anyone, as well as other less well-known cases.’

‘It is true, Mr Archer, that I have had a reasonable amount of success in finding missing persons but I must make you aware that the cases you will be aware of are the successful ones. There have been just as many cases I have taken on where I have been unable to track down the missing person in question and many remain missing to this day.’

‘I understand Mr Wilde, but we think you will have a better chance of finding her than the police who don’t seem to have got anywhere so far.’

‘OK, well if you want me to take on this case I will need you to give me as much detail as you can about the day in question, as the local newspaper only reported the basics — that she went missing shortly after she had been out playing with her friends.’

‘She had gone out to play just after she had finished her dinner at around five-thirty. She was outside playing with friends who were all around the same age as her. The kids were allowed to stay out and play until it started to get dark. Laura and her friends often returned to their homes of their own accord just as it began to get dark, only occasionally either Marie or myself would have to go out and call her to come in.

‘At seven-thirty it was starting to get quite dark so Marie went out to get her but there was no sign of Laura or any of the kids. Marie assumed Laura had gone into one of her friend’s houses so called round each of them to check but she was not with any of them. All her friends said that after they had finished playing they saw Laura walking towards our house so she was obviously returning home, she didn’t just decide to wander off somewhere, she wouldn’t do that. She also knew not to speak to strangers we were always very strict with her about that. She must have been snatched literally yards from our front garden.’

There was a light knock on Joe’s door; then it opened and Jackie walked in carrying two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Mr Archer and the other to Joe, then left.

‘You haven’t mentioned yourself, Mr Archer; were you not there at the time?’

‘No, I was working; I am a courier and I had a few deliveries to make. I was working overtime as we needed the money. When Marie phoned me to say Laura had gone missing I drove home straight away, I was back by five past eight. Marie phoned the police and waited at home just in case Laura came back while I drove around the local area searching for her. Marie spoke with the police when they arrived. I just spent the whole night driving around in the hope that I would spot her wondering around the streets.

‘It was that paedophile who took her — it just has to be — it’s too much of a coincidence that Laura goes missing six months after that sicko moved to the area. If we had known that there was someone on the sex offenders register living close by we would never have let our kid play out in the street, I don’t think any of the parents would. It’s outrageous that the police don’t inform local residents.’

‘I get what you are saying Mr Archer, but  can understand why they don’t because they could end up being the victims of a hate campaign or even vigilante justice which would breach their human rights.’

‘People like that shouldn’t have any rights, Mr Wilde, if I find out who this paedophile is and his address, he will wish he had never been born.’

‘You don’t know that he had anything to do with her disappearance, I believe the police have not found any evidence linking him to her disappearance. You can’t go around accusing people without evidence or take justice into your own hands. If there is any evidence linking this guy to Laura’s disappearance, I will find it.’

‘We know you will, Mr Wilde; we believe you are our best hope of finding our daughter.’

‘I don’t mean to appear insensitive but can I just ask you why you believed it was alright to let your daughter play out on the street unsupervised?’

‘We live in a cul-de-sac, Mr Wilde, there is very little traffic and there are usually other parents or neighbours out in their gardens. Marie and I would regularly look out the kitchen window to check on Laura and like I said earlier we never let her play out after dark. We are very responsible parents, Mr Wilde, you can ask anyone.’

‘I see. I need you to tell me as much about your daughter as you can, for example what she is like, her personality, what sort of things is she into?’

Mrs Archer finally spoke up.

‘She was just a normal bubbly sweet young girl, always smiling — she loved playing with her friends or playing with her toys. She loved animals; she went on at us for ages to get her a dog or a cat. In the end we compromised and got her a pet rabbit.’

Joe made a mental note of this. If a stranger was going to try and entice a young child to go off with them somewhere they may well have brought a dog; a friendly one like a labrador or a retriever.

‘How was she getting on at school?’

‘Fine, she really enjoyed school, had plenty of friends and was generally doing well in class. Her teachers said she could occasionally be disruptive but no more than most of the other kids, which is normal for children of their age.’

‘And what about at home, were there ever any problems between yourselves and her?’

‘What do you mean problems? What sort...’

Before Marie Archer got a chance to finish what she was about to say her husband butted in quite aggressively.

‘I already told you that we are responsible parents, Mr Wilde, and Marie told you that Laura was a happy bubbly wee girl. I hope you are not trying to imply that we might have had something to do with her disappearance, because if you are we will leave right now and find ourselves another private investigator.’

‘I am not implying anything, Mr Archer, what I meant was, did you perhaps have to tell her off quite recently for something she had done wrong or was there anything she may have been upset about that might make her think about running away? If I am going to conduct a proper investigation I need to cover all bases.’

‘We occasionally had to scold her or raise our voices like any parents of young children have to from time to time but there was nothing recent that we had to tell her off about. She did not run away, Mr Wilde, she had no reason to, she was happy — she was kidnapped. We need you to find her as soon as possible.’

‘I will try my best, Mr and Mrs Archer, but I can’t make any promises. Have you got any recent photographs of Laura?’

‘Yes we brought some with us,’ replied Mrs Archer as she passed them over to Joe.

‘Thanks, well Jackie will have already advised you of my hourly rate so if you are happy just sign the contract that is on her desk before you leave I will start my investigation immediately. I will give you a weekly update on my progress either by phone or you can come into the office for a meeting, whichever you prefer.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Yes thank you, Mr Wilde,’ Mrs Archer added.

They all got up and Joe shook their hands before they left his office.  Joe sat back down and