A Necessary End by F. Paul Wilson

Author:F. Paul Wilson [Wilson, F. Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shadowridge Press
Published: 2014-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

NIGEL

Despite Nigel’s call about a murder-suicide, it took the police over an hour to send a single cop around. A young Special Constable named Fitch arrived with lights flashing but no siren and looked squeamish around the bodies. He took statements and said a crime scene team would be out soon.

When Fitch was done, Nigel said, “Were you at all involved in the matter of their missing child?”

Fitch frowned. “Missing child? When did that happen?”

“About ten days ago. You’re local?”

He nodded. “Harrow Central. Used to be part time, but with so many out–”

“And no one’s ever made mention of Bandora Hakizimana?”

He smiled. “Oh, I believe I’d remember that name, sir. No, no one.”

Odd.

Fitch called in again and looked frustrated. “The crime scene investigator is delayed. I’ll have to wait until he arrives.”

Nigel glanced at Mal who was sitting on the living room sofa gazing off into space as if trying to comprehend what had happened here. He’d known them, after all. Nigel was too wound up to sit. He went to the front window and stared out at the deserted, sunlit street. Still no sign of the DI.

As he was turning away he spotted a man standing in the shade between two of the houses across the street. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing… and looking Nigel’s way, as if watching the Hakizimana house.

Nigel leaned closer to the pane, trying to make out his features. He was dark, Indian maybe. His shadowed face… he looked familiar… almost like–

“Wha–?” He jerked back from the window as recognition hit him like a fist to the jaw. “No! It can’t–!”

“What’s up?” Mal said.

“No fucking way!” Nigel cried, leaping to the door and pulling it open.

He stared through the storm door at the spot between the houses – now empty. He shoved it open and ran across the street through the bright sunlight. He reached the shady spot where the man had stood. Not a trace of him now, but the unmown grass was flattened in a small area. He ran to the rear and scanned the backyards on either side. Empty.

He realized he was out in the open without his ski mask. Christ! Shaking his head, he hurried back to the Hakizimana house.

“Are you daft?” Mal said as he ducked back inside.

“I saw someone watching the house.”

“Where?”

Nigel stared through the door at that empty space. “Across the street. I could have sworn–” He stopped himself.

“Sworn what?”

Nigel shook his head. “He looked like Doctor Singh.”

“Fuck off!”

“No, I swear.” He was shaking inside. “I’m not talking just another Indian guy and they all look alike and that rubbish. I know Singh’s face–”

“You’ve never met him.”

“Seen enough photos and it was him!”

Mal sighed. “This was supposed to get your mind off that.”

“And it has, but I’m telling you, Mal–”

“Doctor Rajiv Singh is dead. They pulled his body from the embers. You’re seeing things, mate.”

Was he? Was he really?

He shook his head. “Well, if I am, it’s because of this house.” He turned and glanced at Constable Fitch.

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