Flashes: Part One
Author: Tim O'Rourke
Date: 2014-06-04 23:00:00+00:00
Description: A brilliant detective thriller with a supernatural twist! Charley has visions . . . Flashes of things she can't explain. A girl in trouble. The sound of trains. She feels certain they are clues to a crime. But no one will believe her. Until she meets Tom, a young policeman on his first case: an accidental death on the railway tracks, not far from where Charley lives. Was it an accident, suicide . . . or murder? The attraction between Charley and Tom is instant, but can they work together to find out what really happened on the tracks before it happens again?
Publisher: Chicken House (Scholastic)
Rights: © Tim O’Rourke 2014

From the Chicken House

Tim O’Rourke is a real police officer – so when he writes about detectives and crime, you know he knows . . . so be very careful of how you decide ‘who did it’ in this amazing mystery with the strangest twist. Can you trust what you hear and see? Who is telling the truth about flashes, premonitions and texts from the dead? Or is it all just to put you off the scent? I’m not telling.

OK, Tim – fair cop – I have an alibi, honest . . .

Barry Cunningham
Publisher

Contents

Chapter 29 Charley – Wednesday: 21:55 Hrs.

Chapter 30 Tom – Wednesday: 22:50 Hrs.

Chapter 31 Charley – Wednesday: 22:33 Hrs.

Chapter 32 Tom – Wednesday: 23:22 Hrs.

Chapter 33 Charley – Wednesday: 23:48 Hrs.

Chapter 34 Tom – Wednesday: 23:48 Hrs.

Chapter 35 Charley – Thursday: 00:03 Hrs.

Chapter 36 Tom – Thursday: 00:23 Hrs.

Chapter 37 Charley – Thursday: 00:33 Hrs.

Chapter 38 Tom – Thursday: 00:33 Hrs.

Chapter 39 Charley – Thursday: 00:42 Hrs.

Chapter 40 Tom – Thursday: 00:42 Hrs.

Chapter 41 Charley – Thursday: 00:53 Hrs.

Chapter 42 Charley – Thursday: 01:17 Hrs.

Acknowledgements

Copyright

In loving memory of my friends Patrick Taylor and Richard Bevan who flashed so brightly. I just wish you had done so for longer. I miss you both with all my heart.

CHAPTER 29

Charley – Wednesday: 21:55 Hrs.

‘That’s the last time he shows his face around here,’ my father bellowed, storming down the hall and back into the kitchen.

‘You can’t stop me from seeing him.’

‘I can do what I want,’ he seethed. ‘I’m your father and you’ll do as I say.’

‘But I like him, Dad.’

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ he snapped. ‘You’re seventeen for crying out loud. What do you know about anything?’

‘I know enough to know that Tom believes in me,’ I snapped back.

‘He’s using you Charley, can’t you see that?’

‘So you say!’

‘Why can’t you like boys your own age? Tom’s too old for you,’ he said.

‘You are kidding me?’ I spat. ‘Have you any idea what most boys my age are like? All they’re interested in is a quick fumble!’

‘Not all boys are like that,’ he grunted.

‘Oh no?’ I said. ‘Why don’t you go and take a good look around the shopping centre on a Friday night. You’ll see them all there clutching their packets of ten Marlboro Lights and bottles of Smirnoff Ice. All they want to do is get pissed and screw the nearest thing in a skirt.’

‘Don’t you dare use that language in front of me!’ he shouted. ‘I’m your father. Show some respect.’

‘Well it’s true,’ I shouted back, my head was hurting so much I was beginning to feel sick. ‘Tom’s not like that. He’s treats me nice.’

‘Jesus,’ my father sighed with disbelief. ‘You really are the softest touch walking the face of God’s Earth. Dragging you up to the place where some girl was killed is treating you nice, is it?’

‘I was just trying to help. Don’t you care that there’s a killer out there?’

‘It’s not our problem. It’s nothing to do with us.’

‘Don’t you see, Dad? This thing that I can do – these flashes – doesn’t have to be a curse.’ I tried to reason with him. ‘I might actually be able to help people.’

‘The only people you’ll be helping will be those two coppers, to reach the next rank up,’ he said. ‘Can’t you see that?’

‘I think Mum has something to do with the stuff I see.’

He looked at me agog. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Mum died on the railway lines, right?’

‘So?’

‘Well, don’t you think it’s more than just a mere coincidence that my flashes have grown stronger – become more vivid – since other girls started to die on the tracks,’ I breathed. ‘Maybe Mum is trying to tell me something.’

‘My God, Charley,’ Dad cried. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

‘Maybe the man that is killing these girls had something to do with Mum’s death,’ I suggested.

‘Charley, your mum suffered from depression. She was ill. She took her own life – she wasn’t murdered,’ he said.

‘Well, connection or not, I’m going to find this man,’ I insisted. ‘I’m going to stop him killing any more girls and find out if he is connected to Mum’s death.’

Dad took a deep breath and shook his head. ‘Charley, I give up. I can’t deal with this right now. We’ll talk about this again when we’ve both had a chance to calm down.’

‘I’m not going to change my mind,’ I said, placing my hands on my hips and staring at him.

Pouncing forward, my dad gripped me by the wrist and started to yank me out of the kitchen.

‘What are you doing?’ I yelled.

‘Saving you from danger,’ he said, pulling me up the stairs.

‘Let go of me!’ I screamed. I gripped the banister and dug my heels into the carpet. ‘I’m not in any danger! You don’t even believe there’s a killer.’

‘You’re right,’ he heaved, prising off my fingers and pulling me further up the stairs. ‘But if I’m wrong I won’t forgive myself if I don’t protect you from yourself and those coppers.’

‘Please, Dad,’ I yelled, feeling scared. ‘I’m not a child any more.’

‘Then stop bloody behaving like one.’ He dragged me towards my bedroom door, my fingernails clawing at the wallpaper. He pushed into my bedroom and threw me onto my bed.

‘It’s not like you can lock me in my room like I’m some kind of kid,’ I hissed, leaping towards the door.

‘It’s a lot like that,’ he said. He pulled the key from the lock on my side of the door, slammed it and locked it from the other side.

I banged my fists against the door. ‘Let me out! Let me out!’

‘I’m not having you end up like your mother, Charley!’ he panted from the other side of the door, catching his breath.

‘What are you talking about?’ I demanded, hammering my fists so hard my hands began to hurt.

‘I’m just trying to help you,’ he said. ‘I love you. I’ve got to go out to work, but I can’t leave you alone knowing you might go back up to those tracks. I just can’t take that risk.’

I heard the sound of his footfalls as he headed back downstairs. The front door opened, and then slammed shut behind him.

I stood in my bedroom, listening to the sound of his car drive away. I started to cry. I couldn’t believe what my father had done. He had made me feel childish and stupid, like a little girl again. When was he going to realise I wasn’t a little girl any more? When was he going to realise he couldn’t keep on trying to protect me like he had failed to protect my mother?

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I wondered if that was what my father’s irrational behaviour had really been about. Did he wish he’d locked my mother away the day he’d left for work only to come home and find that she had gone – that she had taken her own life?

My breath still stank of something close to road kill. Feeling as if I needed to cleanse myself somehow, I pulled some fresh clothes from my wardrobe and put them on.

My brain felt like it had been wrung out by a pair of invisible hands. It was oozing with everything that had happened in the last hour or so. I knew I could help people. I believed that now. If I didn’t use my flashes in a positive way then what was the point of them? They just became a curse. If only I could find out the identity of this man, lead Tom and his inspector to him. If I could do that, and Tom still hung around, Dad would be able to see Tom wasn’t just using me and that I wasn’t a danger to myself or to anyone else. He would see how I could use the flashes to help others. Despite what Dad thought, I was almost certain the flashes were connected to the death of my mum. If this man was identified and a connection found, then perhaps my dad’s guilt would be lessened.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I tried to brush the smell of decay from my hair. I scraped it into a ponytail then picked up my tainted clothes. My jeans were tangled around my T-shirt, and as I pulled them apart, my phone fell onto the floor. The screen started to glow as my Coldplay ringtone started to play. The song was Fix You and the words were about lights guiding someone home so that they could be fixed.

Slowly reaching down, I picked up my phone. Would Kerry be able to guide me – would she be able to fix me?

‘Hello?’ I whispered.

All I could hear was the sound of fingernails clawing against wood.

I screwed my eyes shut. It almost sounded like someone trying to climb out of their coffin.

‘Charley?’ Kerry’s voice startled me.

‘Yes,’ I gasped. The overpowering smell of rotting flesh and decay was back again, washing over me.

‘Want to see the lights?’ Kerry asked, her voice sounding as though she had a mouthful of mud and grit.

‘Yes,’ I whispered, fighting the urge to throw up. Hot bile gushed into my throat.

‘Come to the house,’ she breathed.

The line went dead.

CHAPTER 30

Tom – Wednesday: 22:50 Hrs.

Lois was in the office, a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. She was busy typing at her computer.

‘Okay?’ I said, taking off my jacket and sitting at my desk.

‘Still snowing is it?’ she asked, smiling.

‘Yeah, how did you guess?’

‘You’re covered,’ she laughed. ‘Either that or you’re going prematurely grey.’

I smiled back at her, and ran my fingers through my hair. ‘Busy?’ I asked.

‘Just typing up some of Kerry Underwood’s friends’ statements,’ she said, going back to her work.

‘Where’s Jackson?’ I asked her.

‘Out, chasing up CCTV,’ she said, without looking up.

‘What, at this time of night?’

‘Jason Lane says he stopped to fill up his car at that twenty-four-hour petrol station, out on Gospel Road,’ she explained. ‘Reckons it was around about the same time the train driver saw Kerry lying on the tracks. If he’s on CCTV then Lane’s in the clear. The railway lines are about five miles from that petrol station.’

‘Jackson still reckons Lane’s involved then?’ I asked her.

‘I guess,’ she said, her keyboard clacking as she continued to type. ‘Anyway, where did you get to last night? You shot off pretty quick.’

‘Had gut ache,’ I lied. ‘Must have been something I ate.’

‘Well next time just let me know, okay?’ she said, peering over the top of the computer screen. ‘I am your skipper.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I did tell the Governor.’

‘He must have forgotten to mention it,’ she said.

Seeing that her head was firmly buried in her work, I slowly got up from my desk and crossed the office. As casually as possible, I lingered by Jackson’s desk. I glanced back at Lois. Her back was to me. Taking my chance, I quickly thumbed through the pile of paperwork in Jackson’s tray.

‘Looking for something?’ Lois asked.

‘I don’t suppose you know if that printout from Kerry’s phone has turned up yet?’

‘Haven’t seen it,’ she said.

‘Has Jackson mentioned it?’

‘Not that I remember,’ she said, her smile fading. ‘Tom, are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I smiled, stepping away from Jackson’s desk. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘It’s just that you seem on edge, or something.’

I patted my stomach, feeling bad about lying to her. ‘Like I said, gut ache.’

‘Okay, if you’re sure that’s all that’s wrong,’ she said.

‘I’m sure,’ I breathed and left the office.

I made my way to the small briefing room. It was empty, just as I hoped it would be. A long table ran the length of the room. Attached to the far wall was a board hung with keys to the station vehicles and their corresponding logbooks. The station had five marked vehicles, and two unmarked allocated to CID. The keys to one of these vehicles were missing. I checked the logbook and could see it had been signed out at 22:13 by DC Jackson. That was okay, it was black. Not the vehicle I needed to check. The second unmarked vehicle was blue, so no point in checking the log book for that one.

Only two sets of keys remained, the other marked vehicles were obviously out patrolling the streets of Marsh Bay. But all of the log-books were present. I took the first one down and opened it. I scanned the pages to see who had booked the vehicle out three days ago, Sunday night. Rogers from ‘D’ relief had used it. Replacing the book, I picked up another and opened it. PC Little had signed for that one on Sunday night. I took hold of the third. There, next to Sunday’s date was Jackson’s signature, timed at 22:02. The vehicle had been signed out two minutes after his shift had started.

Where had he gone in such a hurry? I wondered.

I replaced the logbook and looked for the keys. They were missing. The vehicle was out, so I wouldn’t be able to check it for scratches until it was returned. Taking down the logbook again, I checked to see who had logged that particular vehicle out on the Monday morning. Perhaps they had noticed some scratches on the paint work. It had been signed out by PC Jones at 07:13 at the start of her early turn.

I knew PC Sarah Jones, from training school. She was a good copper and if anyone would have noticed any damage to the police car, it would have been her. I took my mobile phone from my pocket, scanned my contact list and dialled Sarah’s number. All I got was an unobtainable number tone.

‘Bloody thing,’ I hissed, ending the call.

There was a landline on the desk, so I dialled her number and got a connection straight away.

‘Sarah speaking,’ she said.

‘Hey, Sarah, it’s Tom Henson from work.’

‘Hi Tom. Don’t tell me, all rest days have been cancelled for tomorrow.’

‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ I laughed.

‘Thank God,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve got something on tomorrow I can’t cancel. So why the call? It’s late you know.’

‘Sorry to bug you. You know you booked out vehicle Romeo Two-One, on Monday morning?’

‘Yes, what have I done? Pranged it or something?’

‘No, not you, but I think someone did. I don’t suppose you noticed any scratches on the paintwork, near the back of the car when you booked it out?’

‘Not that I remember,’ she said. ‘But hang on, there was something.’

‘What?’ I asked, my heart leaping into my throat.

‘It’s probably nothing.’

‘Go on,’ I said, gripping the phone so tightly I heard my knuckles crack.

‘Keep this between you and me, okay, because I don’t want to get him into any trouble, or anything,’ she said.

‘Get who into any trouble?’

‘You know, that tall guy from CID, the one who loves himself – Jackson,’ she said. ‘I could see from the logbook that he was the last one to use the vehicle. Well, since that guy got divorced he thinks he’s a real ladies man, he’s made a pass at me once or twice . . .’

‘What was strange about the vehicle?’

‘Well, he’d obviously had a woman in the car with him,’ she said, and my heart began to speed up.

‘What makes you say that?’ I asked, trying to be cool about it.

‘The car stank of Chloe perfume,’ she said. ‘I recognised it straight away, because I have a bottle.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

‘Positive. As I said, the car stank.’

‘Thanks, Sarah,’ I said.

‘Thanks for what?’ she asked.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said, and hung up the phone.

CHAPTER 31

Charley – Wednesday: 22:33 Hrs.

Istood and peered out of my bedroom window in search of the taxi I’d booked. I’d been mindful not to book a cab through the same firm my father worked for; I didn’t want him turning up. As soon as Kerry had ended the call, I’d thrown on some warmer clothes, coat and gloves, then taken the twenty pounds I had saved from my jewellery box.

There was no sign of the taxi yet, so pushing the window open, I swung one leg out over the window ledge. Turning onto my stomach, I pushed the other leg out and hung precariously out of the window. If my father were to come home now he’d probably think I wanted to do myself in, or had gone totally mad at the very least. I lowered myself out of the window, the wind howling about the eaves and blowing snow into my face. I felt the tips of my trainers touch the roof of the porch above the front door. I hoped it would support me. Carefully, I eased myself down until all my weight was on it, then reached up and pushed my window closed.

I jumped down into the snow, landing with a heavy thud and rolling over onto my back. I’d winded myself, but that was the worst of it. Pulling myself to my feet, and sucking cold night air into my lungs, I went and stood beneath a tree by the kerb outside the house.

Desperate to be gone before Dad returned home, I peered around the tree trunk hoping for a sign of the cab. There was a glow of headlights as a car turned into the street. It slowed, then stopped just outside the house, snow swirling in the glare of its headlights. I patted my coat pockets just to make sure I had my phone and torch with me, then crept from behind the tree and made my way as quickly as possible to the taxi.

‘Taxi for Charley?’ the driver asked me, winding down his window.

‘That’s me,’ I said and climbed in the passenger seat.

‘Where to?’ he asked.

It was then I realised I didn’t actually know the name of that dirt track. I tried to remember the route I had walked the other night. I was sure the dirt track was off Oakgrove Road.

‘Could you take me to Oakgrove Road, please,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you directions from there.’

‘Are you sure you want to go right the way out there?’ the driver asked me, turning out of my street.

‘I’m sure.’

‘It’s just it’s fairly remote . . . and on a night like this . . .’

‘Just take me there, please,’ I said. I turned to look out of the window.

‘Okeydokey,’ the driver said.

The silence made me feel uncomfortable, but we were soon heading out of town and working our way down the narrow roads that led in the direction of the derelict house. The snow didn’t seem to want to let up and on several occasions the driver had to slow the vehicle to a near crawl to navigate his way around the twisting bends.

Through the window I saw wide open fields, now covered in white. I looked at the digital thermometer on the dashboard and it read minus two degrees. The taxi driver was right, I must be mad to make this journey on such a cold and bleak night. But he wasn’t any better, risking bringing his cab all the way out here. With the snow falling as fast as it was now, he might never get back to town himself.

I peered through the darkness as we reached a junction. The driver turned right onto Oakgrove Road. I looked from left to right but with the snow coming down it was hard to see anything clearly. Then, just as he was about to drive past it, I saw the tiny road to my left.

‘Stop,’ I said. ‘This is the road.’

The cabbie slowed the car and peered at the narrow lane I’d pointed to. ‘I’m sorry, love, but I’m not risking taking my car up there. Not in this weather, I’ll never get out again. I must have been mad to bring you this far.’

‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘I can walk the rest of the way. How much do I owe you?’

The driver checked the meter. ‘Eight-forty.’

I dug around in my coat pocket and pulled out the twenty-pound note. ‘Take ten.’ I felt grateful to him for driving me out so far.

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ He took the money and handed me my change. ‘Look, I don’t know what’s brought you out to such a god-forsaken place like this, and I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t mind waiting.’

‘How long have you got?’ I asked him, grateful for his offer.

The cabbie wound down his window and looked up at the snow-laden sky. ‘About five minutes, ten at the most. After that, those roads back to town will be treacherous.’

‘You’d better get back,’ I said. ‘I have no idea how long I’m going to be.’

‘Meeting someone are you?’ he asked, winding up his window to stop the snow blowing in.

‘Something like that,’ I said, reaching for the door handle.

‘Boy trouble?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got a daughter about the same age as you. I understand.’

‘I don’t think you do,’ I said, pushing open the door.

‘I wouldn’t want my Casey coming out here alone on a night like . . .’ he started.

‘My boyfriend is a policeman, so if I can’t get back, I can always call him,’ I said. Tom wasn’t technically my boyfriend of course, but I hoped that might change one day. ‘I’m sure he’ll be able to come out and pick me up.’

‘Okeydokey,’ he sighed. ‘As long as you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ I told him and closed the door.

I stood with the snow falling all around me and watched the cabbie drive away. Once the taillights of his car had disappeared around a bend in the road, I turned and faced the narrow entrance to the dirt track.

Torch in hand, I started off up the narrow road towards the house. I shone the torch from side to side, its narrow beam reflecting off the snow that covered the ground. Plumes of breath puffed from my mouth and nose. The world seemed deathly quiet; the only sounds were my beating heart and the powdery snow crunching with every step I took.

I’d trudged about halfway up the lane and had hoped I would have seen those lights again to show me the way. Everything looked different now it was covered in snow, and I couldn’t be sure where to leave the lane and find the path that led to the house. I shielded my eyes and looked back, wondering if I had passed it already. I didn’t know. I kept moving, the taxi driver’s words now ringing in my ears, ‘Are you sure you want to go right the way out there?’

Now I was here, alone and in the dark, I wasn’t so sure, and I began to regret telling the cabbie not to wait for me. This had all seemed like a good idea back at home in the warmth and safety of my bedroom. I had been angry and confused. I’d wanted to prove to Dad I could use the flashes to help people and that he couldn’t hold me prisoner.

But more than that, I wanted to prove to him that Tom wasn’t using me. In my heart, though, I knew it was me I was trying to prove it to. Those years of taunts, the teasing, the bullying on Facebook about my flashes had hurt me more than I dared to admit. I was tired of being known as some kind of daydreamer, fantasist, witch – freak! I knew the images I saw in my flashes were real, a window to events that had happened. I knew the phone call from Kerry was real. I had heard her gasping for breath.

So if I could come away from the old house tonight with the name of the man who had killed Kerry, Alice and my friend Natalie, if I could identify the killer for the police, no one would ever be able to doubt me again. I would have proved to everyone that what I saw was real. I could help people and my flashes would be a gift and not a curse.

With my head bent low, I pushed forward through the driving snow. I’d walked another twenty yards or so when I saw a patch in the bushes where the brambles had been snapped and broken. At once I recognised it as the place where Tom and I had gone the night before. I made my way towards it. Holding the torch in one hand, I used the other to push apart the bushes. I stepped through and in the torchlight I saw the tiny winding path leading up to the house.

I was surprised not to see the lights Kerry had promised, but maybe they would appear once I was at the house. A thought occurred to me. Would Kerry appear too? And if she did, would she look nightmarish, as if she had just crawled out from beneath that train? Had she dragged herself back up the hill to the house, her broken and twisted body snaking behind her, leaving a crimson trail of blood and mud in the snow? I shuddered at the thought.

In the distance, through the trees, I could see that broken chimney pot and I pushed those images of Kerry from my mind. I made my way towards the house. It stood before me, leaning to one side like it had spent too many nights standing in the cold and the wind. The snow-covered ground before it was fresh and untouched. There were no other footprints than my own.

The wind blew hard through the nearby trees and the branches creaked like the bones of the elderly. I started to feel spooked, but it wasn’t just the sound of the wind in the trees – I felt as if someone was watching me. The lights had yet to appear, so I made my way inside.

The smell of stale beer, pot and urine wafted into my nose again, just like it had before. In the silence, I could hear the sound of water dripping down the moss-covered walls. There was a noise, a scratching sound, in the far corner. I spun around to see a pair of orange eyes peering out of the darkness at me. I gasped and dropped my torch. It rolled away, and in the light that it cast across the house, I saw a fox go tearing past me and out into the night. Then the torch went out. I looked back to see the fox’s tail swish around the doorway and a shadow fall across the snow outside.

The shadow was far too big to have belonged to the fox and it was moving towards the house, not away from it. Somebody was coming.

‘Kerry, is that you?’ I called out, frantically searching the floor for my torch.

From outside I could hear the sound of approaching footsteps in the snow.

‘Hello?’ I called out again, my fingers at last brushing over my torch, which had rolled away into the corner. I snatched it up and switched it on. Nothing. The bulb had broken.

The sound of the footsteps outside stopped. With my heart racing in my chest, I looked up to see the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway of the shack. I stumbled backwards in fright.

‘Hello, Charley,’ he whispered.

CHAPTER 32

Tom – Wednesday: 23:22 Hrs.

Harker was sitting in his office. I knocked once on the door and entered without giving him the chance to answer. I put the logbook on his desk. He looked at it, then up at me.

‘Well?’ he asked, raising one of his eyebrows. ‘Did you find the phantom scratches?’

‘They’re not phantom,’ I told him. ‘And no, I haven’t found them – not yet anyway.’

‘So what’s with the logbook?’ he asked.

‘Jackson did sign out a marked police car on Sunday night. He took Romeo Two-One.’

‘So?’

‘As you can see, he signed it out just two minutes after turning up for his night shift,’ I said.

‘What are you suggesting?’ Harker asked me, picking up the logbook and studying it.

‘Does a CID officer usually take a marked vehicle out on patrol?’ I asked. ‘And why the rush? He had only been in the station two minutes, not even long enough for him to book on duty with the control room.’

‘Maybe he had an urgent statement booked that he needed to get out and take?’ Harker said thoughtfully.

‘What, at that time on a Sunday night?’ I cried. ‘Not likely. Anyway, how do you account for the car smelling of women’s perfume?’

‘What?’ Harker said.

‘As you can see, the vehicle was next booked out by PC Jones at a quarter past seven on the Monday morning. No one had used it since Jackson,’ I explained. ‘I’ve just spoken to Sarah Jones and she says she remembers getting in the car the next morning and that it stank of perfume. Now why would that be, I wonder?’

‘Do we know what perfume the Underwood girl wore, if any?’ Harker asked.

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘But I’m about to check with . . .’

‘And even if she did, what does that prove?’ Harker cut in. ‘Half the women in town probably wear it.’ Harker snapped the logbook closed. ‘Where’s Jackson now?’

‘He’s gone out to collect some CCTV . . .’ I started.

Then, from behind me someone said, ‘No, I’m right here.’

Jackson stood in the doorway. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got a bloody good mind to ask you the same question,’ Harker barked at him. ‘Where have you been?’

‘To collect some CCTV, for the Underwood job,’ he said waving a silver disc in the air. ‘Look, what’s this all about?’

Harker stood up and came from the other side of his desk. ‘Did you take a marked police vehicle out on patrol on Sunday night?’

‘No,’ Jackson said, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at me. Then, as if sensing that everything wasn’t quite right, he said, ‘I can’t remember. You know what it’s like, all the days just seem to roll into one.’

‘Then let me refresh your memory,’ Harker yelled, snatching up the logbook and throwing it at Jackson. ‘Don’t you lie to me. I want the truth or I’ll come down on you so hard, so help me God.’

Jackson opened the logbook and flicked through the pages. I could see he wasn’t really reading the pages; he knew his name was going to be in the book. ‘Oh, that’s right, I remember now. I took a marked vehicle as someone hadn’t put the keys for the CID cars back on the hook.’

‘Why were you so keen to get out that night?’ Harker shot back, and all the while I kept watching Jackson. His face had gone white and that air of cockiness had melted away.

‘I had a job I had to attend to,’ Jackson said.

‘What job?’ Harker snapped.

‘Erm,’ Jackson mumbled.

‘I want the truth!’ Harker roared, just inches from Jackson’s face. I saw Jackson flinch away. ‘Why did that police car stink of perfume? Who did you have in that car? Was it the Underwood girl?’

Jackson’s eyes bulged in their sockets. ‘What?’ he gasped. ‘Is this some sort of joke?’ Then, looking at me he said, ‘This is your doing, Henson. It’s you who’s put these doubts about me in the Guv’s head. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. I’ve met smarmy little pricks like you before. You’re just trying to make a name for yourself. Well don’t think you’re going to get away with it.’

‘Did you have a girl in that car?’ Harker roared again, and just for a moment Harker seemed so angry, I thought he was going to throttle a confession out of Jackson.

Lois appeared in the doorway of Harker’s office. ‘What’s all the shouting about?’

‘It’s that shithead over there,’ Jackson yelled, hooking his thumb in my direction. ‘He’s been filling the Guv’s head with all kinds of crap.’

Then, stepping toe to toe with Jackson, Harker breathed into his face and said, ‘You tell me exactly what went on in that car on Sunday night, or I’m straight on the phone to Complaints and Discipline. This is your last chance, Jackson.’

Jackson took a step back from Harker, then throwing me a quick glance, he said, ‘Okay, so I did have a woman in the car on Sunday night, but it’s not what you think. It has nothing to do with the Underwood girl.’

‘What did you do?’ Lois asked, folding her arms across her chest.

‘I’ve been seeing this girl, Michelle, for the last couple of months,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing serious, just a bit of fun. Anyway, she travelled up from Penzance on Sunday and we spent the day together. I took her for a meal in town. But when I got in the car to give her a lift back to the train station, the bloody thing wouldn’t start. It was pissing down with rain as you know, and there weren’t any cabs about. I couldn’t let the poor cow walk back to the railway station could I? I was trying to make a good impression. So I told her to wait in a shop doorway, while I ran up the road to the nick. I was in a rush, so I just snatched the first set of keys I came across, signed the book and went back to fetch her. She got in the car and I drove her to the station.’

‘What’s this woman’s full name and address?’ Harker asked.

‘Oh, come on boss,’ Jackson groaned. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’

‘Name and address.’

‘She’s married, Guv,’ Jackson said. ‘It could cause her all sorts of problems. She told her old man that she was visiting her sisters that day.’

‘Tough,’ Harker snapped.

‘I can make some discreet enquiries,’ Lois said.

‘And what about the perfume?’ Harker asked him.

‘On the way back to the station, she takes a bottle of the stuff from her bag,’ Jackson said. ‘I told her not to use it in the car, but she was worried. You know, we had been together all afternoon and I guess she just wanted to hide the smell of me and . . .’

‘You’re so gross,’ Lois sighed.

‘Anyway, I dropped her off at the railway station and I was on my way back to the nick when the call came in for the Underwood girl. I went straight there. That’s why I was first on-scene. That’s the truth, Guv,’ Jackson said. ‘That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to get the Underwood job wrapped up that night.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, stepping from the corner of the room.

‘When the Guv started asking for the CCTV from the railway station, I knew I would be seen dropping Michelle off,’ he said. ‘And then I would’ve been in the shit for using a job car in job time for my own personal use. But the funny thing is that CCTV will now save my arse.’

‘How do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Well, you seemed to have it all figured out that I’m implicated in the death of Kerry Underwood,’ he smiled. ‘But I have an alibi for the time of her death and it’s all captured on CCTV.’

‘You’re not out of the shit yet,’ Harker said. ‘If you’ve got nothing else to say, then get out of my sight. I’m sick of looking at you.’

Jackson shot me one last look, and then left the office. Once he’d gone, Harker turned to Lois. ‘Speak to this Michelle – but on the QT. Then, check out the CCTV from the railway station.’

‘Yes, Boss,’ she said and left the office.

Harker slumped into his chair. He looked at me. ‘I should never have listened to you in the first place.’

‘But . . .’ I started.

‘No buts, Henson,’ he said. ‘I just don’t know who or what to believe any more. Now go on, get out.’

I shut Harker’s office door behind me, and turned to see Jackson sitting at his desk staring at me.

‘Happy now?’ he sneered.

‘Happy about what?’ I asked him, going to my desk.

‘That you’ve got me in the shit?’

‘Shut it,’ Lois snapped at him. ‘You got yourself in the shit, no one else. Why don’t you do something useful and make me a cup of coffee.’

‘Yes, Sergeant. Anything you say, Sergeant,’ Jackson said, getting up from his desk and striding towards the coffee maker.

I looked over my shoulder at Lois. She gave me one of her smiles and winked. ‘He’ll get over it,’ she whispered, but I doubted he would.

CHAPTER 33

Charley – Wednesday: 23:48 Hrs.

‘Dad, what are you doing here?’ I gasped. ‘I could ask you the same thing, Charley,’ he said, stepping in out of the snow. ‘I locked you in your room for a reason.’

‘How did you know I was going to be here?’ I asked.

‘Your taxi driver used to be a mate of mine. Barry recognised you. He was worried so he called me up and told me where he’d dropped you off. So, what’s going on? Is this another one of Tom’s stupid ideas?’

‘It’s got nothing to do with Tom,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t even know I’m here.’

‘What about that other copper? The one with the eyebrows?’ he asked me, sounding bitter.

‘No one knows I’m here, apart from you,’ I told him, as the wind began to howl outside.

‘So what’s going on?’ Dad asked, taking a step closer.

‘You wouldn’t believe me, Dad, even if I told you,’ I said, half of me resenting the fact he had followed me up here, but another part pleased I wasn’t alone.

‘It has something to do with the death of that girl, doesn’t it?’

I looked at him and nodded.

‘Charley, this has got to stop,’ he said, his voice softer.

‘What has?’

‘You’ve got to stop running around the countryside trying to solve these crimes,’ he sighed. ‘It’s not your responsibility. And not only that, you could be putting yourself in danger.’

‘How?’ I asked.

‘Charley,’ he said. ‘You’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, late at night, in a blizzard, with no way home!’

‘I’m not in any danger,’ I said, not wanting to admit to myself how dumb I’d been.

‘Not in any danger?’ Dad sighed. ‘What if you’d slipped out here in the snow and broken a leg? What would have happened to you then? No one knows you’re out here. You would’ve had to lie in the snow all night long and the chances are you would’ve frozen to death. Did you even consider that?’

‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘But I had to come out here, Dad. I had to.’

‘But why?’

‘You know why. To prove to you and everyone else that what I see in my flashes is real.’

‘I do believe you,’ he said, coming closer.

‘Really?’ I whispered with surprise. ‘You’re just saying that.’

‘Let’s just go home and talk about it in the warm, Charley,’ he said.

‘But you don’t believe that Mum’s death is connected to what has happened to these girls, do you?’ I asked him, and with every step he took closer to me, the atmosphere in the shack became more oppressive.

‘Your mum committed suicide,’ he said.

‘Where?’

‘I’ve already told you,’ he said, his voice almost soothing. ‘On the railway tracks.’

‘Where exactly?’

‘Just at the bottom of this hill.’

‘And you still don’t think that all of this is connected?’ I asked, tears standing in my eyes at the realisation my mum had died near here too. ‘Don’t you see, Dad? This man could have been involved in Mum’s death as well.’ Tears trickled down my face. Dad took one of my hands in his, and gently squeezed it.

My head jerked backwards.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

A small child sitting in a car nearby. The sound of crying. Looking through a window. The rundown chimney just visible through the trees in the distance.

Flash!

The images disappeared as quickly as they had come and my brain felt as if it was spinning inside my skull.

‘Charley, are you okay?’ Dad asked me, releasing my hand. ‘You’re seeing something, aren’t you?’

‘I saw the child again,’ I whispered.

‘Child?’ he asked, and took my hand again.

Flash! Flash!

I could see the train. It was screaming towards me. No, it was the woman screaming, the woman whose eyes I was seeing through. She was making such a hideous noise. She stood, locked by fear. Rigid. Unmoveable.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

‘What did you see?’ my father asked, sounding concerned. ‘Did you see him? Did you see his face?’

‘No,’ I whispered, shaking my head. ‘But I will see it. I know I will.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ he asked.

‘Kerry’s close by, that’s why the flashes are coming,’ I told him, looking into his eyes.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Kerry is close,’ I whispered, rummaging for my phone. I pulled it out, waiting for her call. ‘She told me to meet her here. She’s going to lead me to her killer.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he snapped.

‘I must text her and tell her I’m here, that I’m waiting for her,’ I said, starting to type.

‘Stop that!’ Dad tried to snatch the phone.

‘No!’ I cried, pulling away from him.

The phone started to buzz. Someone was trying to connect with me. Not via text, or phone, but by facetime. I hit the connect button. The screen flickered, green, black, then blue.

I waved the phone in the air, desperate for a better connection. Then I saw her. Her face was faint, but she was there. It was Kerry staring back at me from the iPhone screen. It was the face I had seen in my flashes. Kerry’s eyes were dark and round, her skin pale, translucent. Blackness framed her face as she peered out of the darkness at me. I looked into the phone, my heart racing, feeling sick with fright.

‘I’m here, Kerry. I want to know now. Who was it? Who was it who killed you?’ I said.

The screen flickered and for a moment she was gone. I shook the phone in frustration and she reappeared.

‘Who was it, Kerry?’ I urged, fearing I’d lose her again. ‘Who killed Alice and Natalie?’ The taste of decay washed over my tongue and down the back of my throat. I swallowed hard. ‘Who killed you?’ I begged her.

Earth escaped from her mouth and tumbled over her chin, ‘Look behind you, Charley.’

The screen went black.

Very slowly, heart thumping, I turned around and looked at my father.

CHAPTER 34

Tom – Wednesday: 23:48 Hrs.

After making Lois her third cup of coffee of the shift, Jackson grunted, ‘I’m going for a smoke. If you want another coffee, I’ll be in the yard.’

Once he’d gone, Lois picked up the telephone and looked meaningfully at me. ‘Are you phoning his alibi?’ I said. She nodded.

‘Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be calling her now?’

‘Not my problem,’ she shrugged, punching the numbers into the phone. ‘The Guv says he wants her checked out, so I’m checking her out.’

I turned away and tried to make myself look busy, but I couldn’t help but listen to what Lois was saying. Even though I was only privy to a one-sided conversation, I got the feeling that whoever this Michelle was, she was extremely embarrassed by the questions Lois asked her. It was obvious from what I could hear, that Jackson had been telling the truth.

My heart sank. Not because I wanted it to be Jackson who had taken Kerry and the other girls, but because the real killer was still at large.

Lois finished her phone call, hung up, and without saying anything, went into Harker’s office and closed the door. I sat and drummed my fingers on the desk, then decided to go back to the briefing room and check the rosters pinned on the wall there, to see who else had been on duty that night.

I was just about to leave the office when I heard the fax machine buzz in the corner and a stream of paper began to print. I crossed the office and picked up the print-out. It didn’t take me more than a moment to realise it was the list of calls and texts sent and received from Kerry Underwood’s phone.

With my eyes growing wide, I could see that several messages had been sent to and from the phone since her death. Then, with my heart racing, I realised the messages had been sent to and from the same number. It was a number I knew. It was Charley’s number.

‘What in hell is going on?’ I said aloud, trying to make sense of what I was reading. ‘How could Kerry be sending texts when she’s dead?’

With my head spinning and my knees feeling as if they were going to buckle at any moment, I read the last few messages that had been shared between Charley and Kerry. Whoever had texted Charley had told her to follow the lights. A feeling of dread crept over me; I felt I might just stop breathing at any moment. It couldn’t have been the dead girl texting Charley. Charley must’ve been communicating with the killer, and now he was waiting up at the derelict house for her.

The sheet of paper slipped from my fingers. With my heart racing, I felt unable to move, as if my shoes had been nailed to the floor. All I could think of was Charley making her way up to the shack in the dark and not knowing the danger she was in or who was waiting for her there.

Think!

Then, pulling my phone from my pocket, I frantically searched through my contacts and dialled Charley. Nothing! The line was dead.

‘Bloody phone!’ I roared, throwing it across the office.

It bounced off the wall, its plastic shell shattering. But before it had even hit the floor, I was racing from the office.

I barged through the swing doors into the briefing room, snatched a set of keys from the wall and headed to the yard. The snow was still falling and looked something close to a blizzard. Shielding my eyes with my hands, I cut across the yard to the last remaining marked vehicle. I dived inside and turned on the engine. The windscreen was covered with snow and even though I had switched on the wipers they were groaning beneath the weight of it.

‘For Christ’s sake!’ I cried, climbing from the car. With my bare hands, I started scraping the windscreen. My fingers were soon glowing like raw lumps of meat.

‘What’s your problem?’ I heard someone shout.

I looked up to see Jackson shivering in the smokers’ corner. The tip of his cigarette winked on and off in the dark as he puffed.

‘Give me a hand over here!’ I shouted.

‘And why should I help you, exactly?’ Jackson called back. I didn’t need to look up to know he would have that stupid-looking grin plastered across his arrogant face. ‘I thought you were top-cop around here. I didn’t think you needed help from anyone?’

‘He’s got Charley!’ I shouted, scooping handfuls of snow from the windscreen of the police car.

‘Charley who?’ he said, sounding disinterested.

I had cleared enough of the snow to be able to see my way, so I climbed back into the car. I looked at Jackson, ‘Just do one thing for me – tell Harker there is going to be another death on the tracks tonight!’

‘How can there be?’ he grinned back at me from the gloom. ‘The prime suspect is standing right here having a smoke.’

‘Screw you, Jackson,’ I said under my breath and sped away as fast as the icy ground would allow me.

The wind howled as snow pelted the side of the police car. Several times, I felt the back wheels of the car spin uncontrollably, and then grip the road again.

‘Please! C’mon! Please!’ I screamed, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. This was all wrong. I had to get to the derelict house, and fast.

CHAPTER 35

Charley – Thursday: 00:03 Hrs.

The wind screamed around the roof of the house. Over my father’s shoulder, I could see the snow falling so heavily now it was impossible to see any more than just a few inches into the night. It was like the outside world had been smothered – cut off.

‘You?’ I gasped, unable to catch my breath. My heart felt like a lump of lead in my chest. ‘Did you kill Kerry . . . Natalie . . . the others?’

‘So what if I did? I’m still your father, aren’t I?’ he shrugged, a smile creeping over his face like a shadow. He looked smug, pleased with himself.

‘Please Dad,’ I breathed. ‘What are you saying? You’re scaring me.’

‘There’s no reason to be scared,’ he smiled again. ‘I’m not a monster. In fact I’m quite a genius.’

‘Genius?’ I gasped.

‘I had it all figured out,’ he said, his voice eerily calm. ‘See, Charley, I had to bring Kerry here first. Very important part of the plan. Kerry couldn’t have got onto the tracks too soon or the police might have wondered how she got there so quickly. Clever isn’t it? I know how these coppers think, you see. There wouldn’t have been enough time for her to have walked from the pub. That would have meant she came up here by car and that would have led to ques—’

‘Stop it, Dad,’ I cried. ‘You’re making this up. Why are you saying this?’

‘Oh, Charley,’ he said, reaching forward and stroking my hair with his fingers. In that instant, I pictured the hand from my flashes reaching out and stroking Kerry’s cheek as she lay on the tracks. I flinched backwards. I didn’t want him to touch me. ‘It’s not so bad,’ he whispered.

‘Not so bad?’ I whimpered, my lower lip beginning to tremble. ‘You killed Kerry . . . you killed Natalie?’

‘No, I didn’t kill Natalie here,’ he smiled wistfully. ‘Two girl’s deaths in the same place in just a few weeks? No, no, no.’ He shook his head and tutted. ‘That would never do.’

I couldn’t believe how calculated he had been. It was like he had planned each of his murders with a callous precision. They hadn’t been the random acts of a madman like you see in the movies or on TV. Perhaps that made him worse than mad. Perhaps his cold calmness made him evil . . .

‘I took her to that other place. That little outhouse you stumbled across after dashing away from her funeral,’ he said, rubbing his hands together in delight ‘There was a mattress for her to lie on and everything. It was perfect.’

‘Why?’ I mumbled, numbed by what he was telling me.

‘Natalie didn’t like me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t like the way she used to look at me. It was like she didn’t trust me. I couldn’t have that. Then, that night, she called for a cab . . .’

‘And you picked her up,’ I said, all the parts slowly falling into place. ‘She would have got into the car because she did trust you. But instead of driving Natalie to our house, you killed her.’

‘No, don’t you see the beauty of it, Charley?’ he said hopping from foot to foot with excitement. ‘I didn’t kill her – I didn’t kill any of them. It wasn’t like I strangled them, beat them, cut them in two . . .’

‘Stop it!’ I screamed, covering my ears with my hands. I didn’t want to hear him. For as long as I could muffle his voice, then he was still my dad, not the killer he wanted to confess to being.

‘Listen to me,’ he whispered, pulling my hands from the side of my head and holding me close.

‘Get off me,’ I screeched, slapping at him. ‘You’re lying.’

He let go of me. ‘Charley, you know what I’m saying is true. It was only going to be a matter of time before you saw me in those flashes. I couldn’t let you find out like that. It’s only fair that you heard it from me first. See, I was trying to protect you all along and you got mad at me because I locked you in your room. Tut, tut,’ he smiled, wagging his finger at me as if I were a naughty little girl.

‘Have you lost your mind?’ I cried. ‘Do you think that by not killing them with your own hands that it makes it all right? That it makes it better?’ I looked at him through the darkness. ‘Dad, you’re a murderer. However you try and justify it – you killed Natalie, Kerry and all the others. You laid them on those tracks. None of them would have been on those tracks if it hadn’t been for you.’

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. ‘Maybe you’re right, Charley. But you don’t understand the power.’

‘Power?’ I gasped. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Ever killed a spider?’ he suddenly said.

‘What?’ I asked, shaking my head in confusion.

‘Ever killed an insect?’

‘I guess,’ I mumbled.

‘As a kid, I killed hundreds of them.’ He spoke as if he was giving confession to a priest. ‘I pulled their legs off and watched them wriggle around on their bellies. Ripped their wings off and laughed as they tried to fly away from me. I had an ant farm as a boy, filled it with boiling water one day from the kettle.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I asked, my flesh crawling, as if those insects he had tortured had come back to haunt me.

‘Because you know when you stamp on that spider, swat that fly, Charley, did you ever feel the slightest bit of guilt?’ he asked. ‘Of course you didn’t. Who does? It’s an insect, right? But it was still a living thing. And I used to wonder about that a lot as a boy. It kept me awake at night. Then, I got to wondering if they knew they were going to die. Did they have thoughts? Did they feel the same fear we would just moments from our death?’

‘Dad, please . . .’ I begged.

‘Then one day, I came across a big fat ginger tomcat lying in the gutter,’ he said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. ‘It had been hit by a car, I think. It was covered in blood and dirt, and its back legs were twitching . . .’

‘Please . . .’

‘Shhh, Charley, you need to understand,’ he soothed, placing his forefinger against my lips. ‘The cat’s eyes were open and it was looking at me and I wondered if it knew it was dying. Like those insects, did the cat know it was so close to death? Does a cat have any concept of death – of dying? There was a rock nearby . . .’

‘Please stop,’ I sobbed.

‘Shhh,’ he soothed again, slowly drawing his finger down the length of my cheek.

I shuddered at his touch as he continued, lost in his own madness. ‘And as I brought that rock down, I looked into its eyes and could see that it understood. To take that creature’s life was power. It was a rush. But it wasn’t enough. And as time passed, I couldn’t forget those feelings of power. I started to wonder what it would be like to kill a person. That would have to be more of a rush, right? Killing insects and animals was one thing, but to kill a human being was something different. That would be murder and that wasn’t allowed. To kill someone isn’t an easy thing. How do you dispose of the body? I read the newspapers as one killer after another got caught. Very few got away with it. Then one day, I was fourteen, I had gone walking with a friend along the cliffs near Land’s End. We were alone. There was no one else around. I coaxed him to come stand next to me on the edge of a steep cliff. As he looked down at the waves smashing and crashing against the rocks way below, I pushed him over the edge. I watched him bounce off the rocks, his body broken and twisted as it floated out to sea. Like any good friend, I raced for help. I raised the alarm. The coastguard dragged my friend’s body from the sea, while I sat and cried and was given tea and biscuits to help me get over the shock of seeing my friend fall to his death. No one ever suspected a thing. It was perfect. No one knew what I had done. I had got away with murder.

‘But then, many years later, what I had done came to light. My secret was discovered.’

‘Who by?’

‘Your mum, Charley,’ he smiled.

‘Mum?’ I whispered. ‘What do you mean?’ I felt as if I were going to throw up at any moment.

‘Your mum had flashes too,’ he said. ‘And in her flashes she saw what I had done to my friend all those years ago.’

Although I could barely see him in the darkness, I knew he was smiling. ‘Your mum was sick, Charley. Her flashes made her sick. They tormented her, like they torment you. For days, sometimes weeks, she would slip into a deep state of despair. She drank a lot, to try and block them out, those visions of the dead she claimed to see. But the alcohol only made them worse – more intense she once said. One evening, I came home to find you crying and hungry, while she lay on the sofa, a bottle of vodka half empty beside her. I dragged her to her feet, and it was then she saw what I had done. It was then, in a series of flashes, she saw me push my friend over that cliff to his death. She called me a monster, a murderer. I couldn’t have that. Your mother was always drunk and loose-lipped – who else might she tell about what I had done? She was semiconscious, drunk. So, I carried her to the car and drove her out here. It wasn’t like it was planned or anything . . .’

Fearing what he was going to tell me, I covered my ears with my hands again. ‘Stop! Please just stop!’ I began to sob.

He lunged forward and grabbed my hands.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

In those brief and fleeting flashes I saw that child again in the car. Tears running down her face as she stared out of the window.

Flash! Flash!

Where have Daddy and Mummy gone?

Flash!

‘I was that little girl,’ I gasped, almost choking on my tears. ‘You brought me out here that evening. You left me in the car while you took her down onto the tracks.’

‘I couldn’t have left you at home,’ he said indignantly. ‘What sort of a father do you think I am?’

A large piece of a very difficult jigsaw suddenly dropped into place. ‘That’s why the flashes I had about Kerry had been so strong – so vivid. They weren’t just flashes, they were memories. That’s why I was sitting behind you in that car as you waited for the trains to roll over those girls. I was beginning to remember . . .’

‘You were just a baby,’ he said. ‘Five or six. Even I can’t recall, and I hoped you never would. But when you started to tell me what you had seen in your flashes, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you remembered everything.’

‘You killed Mum, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, Charley.’

‘You took her down onto those tracks just like you did with Kerry and those other girls. You left her lying on the tracks.’ I gripped his hand, and it was his turn to flinch.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

That train was bearing down on me again, as if it was I who was lying in the middle of those tracks. But it wasn’t me, it was my mum’s eyes I was looking through as the train raced forward. It had been her eyes I had been looking through the day Tom had brought me up to the ruined house. She saw the train coming but was too drunk to move out of its way. My mum snapped her head to the right, hoping that if she didn’t see the train, then the pain wouldn’t be so bad.

Flash! Flash!

And there was my father, sitting in the darkness of his car. He was younger looking, just as I remembered him when I was a child. His hair black, yet to be flecked with grey. No tired wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and mouth.

Flash!

I was sitting in the child’s seat in the back of the car and crying for my mum.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

I snapped open my eyes and looked at my father standing before me in the derelict house. ‘You murdered her!’ I roared, my head feeling as if it had been split open.

‘Yes,’ he shouted ecstatically. ‘It was more than those insects, so much more than that fat old tomcat and my friend. To take her life was like standing on the very edge of the universe. I felt like God. I was God. He takes the lives of thousands every day and gets away with it, and so had I. It was perfect. No one questioned what had happened. From the very beginning her death was treated as a suicide. There was no knife sticking out of her back. She hadn’t been gagged and bound. She was drunk, had a history of mental illness – why should anyone suspect anything? The police actually felt sorry for me when they came to tell me that night what had happened.’

‘You’re the one who’s sick, not Mum,’ I sobbed, just wanting him to be away from me, but knowing in my heart he wasn’t going to let that happen.

‘But can’t you see, Charley?’ he said, trying to stop the excitement in his voice from brimming over. ‘I had managed to do what the other killers hadn’t. I’d killed again and had got away with it. It was perfect!’

‘How many . . . ? How many have you killed like this?’ I asked him. In some strange way I needed to know.

‘Seven, I think,’ he said thoughtfully. Then, with a soft chuckle he added, ‘Don’t expect me to remember all of their names.’

‘Alice Cotton?’ I asked him, already knowing the truth.

‘Ah, Alice,’ he said. ‘What a sweet girl. She hadn’t been drinking. It was always better if they had. You see, I’d got away with it for years. I was always picking up drunk girls in my taxi. And drunk was good. The police seemed to question it less if they were drunk. It was like they had staggered onto the railway lines by accident. Perhaps they had missed the last train home, and in their drunken state had walked off the end of the platform, deciding they would walk to the next station. Perhaps they had decided to take a short cut. Who really knew, except for me? They always got in my car because I drove a taxi – they trusted me. But there was always a risk to that. Someone might have seen them get in, seen the company name on the side of the car. I could have easily removed the stickers, but then the girls wouldn’t have got in with me.’

‘The police badge,’ I whispered.

‘You saw that, did you? Yes, the perfect solution,’ he said, his eyes twinkling in the darkness.

I nodded my head; I was too numb to speak.

‘I picked up a drunk copper one night,’ he explained. ‘As he fumbled to put his warrant card and badge back into his pocket after paying me, he dropped it between the seats. He didn’t realise. But I did. I saw it. I used it. I took the cabbie stickers from the side of the cab. I didn’t need them any more. The police badge worked like a dream with both Alice and Kerry. One quick flash of the badge and they were in the car and out of the rain. No questions asked. Alice even asked me if I was a detective. I liked that,’ he laughed as if remembering a private joke. Then looking at me, he said. ‘What else did you see? Come on, tell me how good you really are.’

‘I saw Kerry scratch your car, as you dragged her from it,’ I told him. My head was beginning to pound as if the flashes were coming again.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I soon got rid of them.’

‘The dent to the back of your car?’ I gasped.

‘That’s right,’ he smiled. ‘See, Charley, you don’t have to depend on your flashes to see things. I knew the scratches were there and I knew I had to get rid of them. So I reversed the car into a wall. I even fooled your cop friend, Tom,’ he grinned, and I saw his teeth in the darkness. ‘He asked me how I’d come by the damage, and I told him a cock and bull story about how someone had reversed into my car in the supermarket car park. See what I mean, Charley? It’s all so easy.’

‘Or maybe not,’ I spat, my head beginning to hurt really badly now. ‘Because I’ve seen what you’ve done, and I’ve told Tom and DI Harker what I’ve seen. That’s why you were pissed off when you found me with them. That’s why you locked me in my room. You didn’t really care that they might be using me. You were scared I might eventually see you in my flashes and I would tell them. That’s why you sometimes smelt of soap when you came back home. You were washing the scent of the girls off you – the smell of your victims. And the constant cleaning of the inside of your car. You were washing away any evidence that might have been left behind. But why take your wedding ring off?’

‘I do have some respect for your mother’s memory,’ he scowled.

‘You really are insane,’ I breathed, no longer able to recognise the man standing before me. He looked like my father, but sounded and acted like someone else.

‘Not insane, Charley, a genius. None of the cops saw what I’d done and you didn’t see me in your flashes, or you wouldn’t be here now,’ he gloated.

‘So, what are you going to do? Kill me?’ I shouted – almost daring him.

‘No, you’re going to have a little drink or two and then go to sleep on the tracks,’ he said, pulling a bottle of dark liquid from his coat pocket. He saw me glance down at it. With a smile, he quickly added, ‘Just a special recipe of mine. No more pink lemonade for you, Charley. I’ve made you a very special Christmas punch this year. It will blow your mind!’

‘You won’t get away with another murder so soon.’

‘Believe me, Charley, if there was any other way – but there isn’t,’ he said, slowly scratching his chin with his free hand. ‘I’ve thought about what to do with you long and hard. You have to die. It can’t be nice for you suffering with those flashes of yours. I see the pain it causes you. I’ve seen the pain and hurt those comments on Facebook cause you. I know you hurt because you don’t have any friends. Well, I’m your father and all good fathers protect their daughters. So I’m going to take all that pain away, Charley.’

‘No one will believe I got drunk alone up here and staggered down onto the tracks. Tom will figure it out.’

‘Tom,’ my father smiled. ‘The cop boyfriend who broke the rules by bringing you up here. What a selfish thing that was for him to do.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I screamed.

‘A police officer bringing his distraught girlfriend to the place where her mother killed herself,’ he smiled at me. ‘A girl who was so mixed up, she became fixated by the death of a girl named Kerry Underwood who died in the same spot as her mother. A girl so screwed up she believed she witnessed Kerry Underwood’s death in a series of paranormal flashes. A girl who, like her mother, had been in and out of hospitals her whole life claiming to be able to see things.’

‘You bastard,’ I cried, tears rolling down my face again. ‘You don’t really believe you’ll get away with this?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I do and don’t believe,’ he smiled. ‘What matters is what the police believe. And when they find your dead body on the tracks, they’ll believe you killed yourself, just like your mother did.’

Then, gripping me by the arm, he dragged me from the old house, down towards that little winding path which led to the railway tracks.

CHAPTER 36

Tom – Thursday: 00:23 Hrs.

‘C’mon!’ I screamed, pounding the steering wheel with my fist.

The snow was falling so heavily now that everything was obscured by a white blur. The car slipped forward, every few yards the back wheels spinning against the slippery road. I eased my foot down on the accelerator, desperate to keep pushing on as fast as I could in the direction of the derelict house.

I peered frantically out of the window to search for any landmarks that might tell me exactly how far I was from the dirt road. But all I could see was a white swirling haze. My heart raced and my breathing was shallow as I tried desperately not to let my fear for what might have happened to Charley consume me. I had no idea whether she had met up with the man who was sending the texts. But what was worse, I had no idea who this man was.

Charley had not been able to identify him. Had she met with him already? Was she . . . ? No, I refused to think about that. I had to keep believing she was still alive. But however much I focused on that belief, all I could see was the upper torso of Kerry Underwood sticking out from beneath that freight train. One arm twisted grotesquely around her own shoulders, her other arm missing completely and her legs wrapped around the wheels of the bogey, six cars further down the track. When I pictured her, it wasn’t Kerry staring back at me, it was Charley.

‘C’mon!’ I roared again, and pushed my luck by pressing harder on the accelerator. The car lurched forward and seemed to shudder. The back of the car skidded to the right. I felt the vehicle slide, and I yanked at the steering wheel, desperate to keep the car on the road. But the speed of the skid was too great for me to keep control. The car spun almost completely around and then toppled sideways into a ditch.

I was thrown to the right, my head slamming into the window.

A bolt of pain exploded across my face and I felt the warm gush of blood as it ran across my forehead and into my eye. I wiped the blood away and pressed the flat of my hand against my temple to stop the flow. The seat belt was so tight across my chest it felt like someone was standing on me.

I gasped, desperate to get air. I fumbled for the clasp, but because of the angle of the car I was trapped and I had to twist my arm at an agonising angle to reach it. I cried out in pain, my fingers brushing over the top of it. All the while I knew time was slipping away for me to get to Charley.

With my teeth clenched and eyes shut, I twisted my arm again and pressed down on the seatbelt clasp. It sprung free and my chest felt as it was going to explode. I lay on my side and gasped for breath. I hoisted myself around using the steering wheel as a lever, pushing myself up against the passenger door. It opened and a flurry of snow blew down into the car. I wriggled myself into a standing position, then sticking my head and shoulders through the open doorway, I hauled myself free.

I hit the ground and rolled onto my back. Hot blood streamed down my face. The back wheels of the car were still spinning as it lay on its side. I staggered to my feet. I felt dizzy and disorientated. With legs like putty, I went back to the car. Reaching in, I grabbed the radio handset from the dashboard. It crackled with static as I switched it on.

‘X-ray-five-zero to control, I need urgent assistance.’ As soon as the words left my mouth, my legs buckled beneath me and I slid down the side of the upturned police car and into the snow. Everything went black.

CHAPTER 37

Charley – Thursday: 00:33 Hrs.

Even though my dad had hold of me, I slipped and went sprawling onto my back. The base of my spine exploded with pain as I hit the ground. The surrounding bushes, although covered in soft flakes of snow, had sharp thorns and brambles which snagged at my hair and clothes.

‘Please!’ I cried out.

‘It’s okay,’ he hushed, taking hold of my arm again, pulling me to my feet. And as soon as he touched me, the flashes came again.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

My mum. Twilight. The nearby branches snatching at her clothes, as if trying to keep hold of her. Save her. She wasn’t struggling. The smell of booze on her breath. She was drunk.

Flash!

‘Where are you taking me, Frank?’ she slurred.

He didn’t answer her. And I could see his face. Hard. Cold. A close up of his eyes. Excitement burned in them.

The flashes disappeared.

‘Dad, you’ve got to stop,’ I said as he pulled me towards the tracks. ‘Despite what you think, Tom will figure out what you’ve done to me.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ he smiled, shaking his head.

‘That other taxi driver, the one that drove me up here . . .’

‘Will say what?’ he snapped. Wisps of breath escaped from his mouth and drifted away like dragon smoke. ‘He’ll say he dropped you up here, alone. He’ll say you seemed troubled, or why else would a young girl want to be left out here on her own at night and in the snow? He told me he offered to wait for you, but you said no. Sounds like someone that had no intention of ever coming back from here. He was so worried about you, he called me up. Knowing that the last time I had seen you, you had been upset by those two meddling police officers, I came rushing out here in the snow only to discover I was too late. Poor little Charley, believing she had been communicating with the dead via her so-called flashes, she decided to join them by running out in front of a train.’

‘But . . .’ I started, then slipped again.

‘But nothing,’ he hissed, pulling me up and dragging me back through the undergrowth. ‘What you’ve told the police about some man bringing those girls out here means nothing. There is not a scrap of evidence to suggest those girls were murdered. Apart from that idiot, Tom, who else would believe a word you say? You’re troubled, Charley, everyone knows that. Christ, there’s an army of professionals, doctors and teachers who know that.’

‘Please, Dad,’ I cried.

I heard the sound of a train scream past in the wind and the snow. It was so close the branches of the nearby trees swayed. ‘Please,’ I begged him, but just like I had seen in my flashes, his eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Don’t do this, Dad. I’m your daughter, your little girl.’

‘I know,’ he smiled. ‘And that’s why I want to stop you from hurting, Charley.’

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light in the night sky. At first I thought it was the flashes coming again, but I only ever saw them in my head. The night sky lit up again, luminous blue, then white. Over and over again the sky flashed in the distance. Lightning? In a snow storm? No. I peered over my dad’s shoulder, and my heart raced faster and faster in time with those flashes. They were emergency lights, the type you get on top of a police car.

‘Tom!’ I screamed. He was coming for me.

Dad glanced back over his shoulder and saw the blue lights blazing in the distance. Then, the lights were joined by the faint whoop whoop sound of sirens. He turned back to face me. His look of excitement had faded. Now I could see uncertainty and fear in his eyes.

‘Tom believes me,’ I said to him. Then, at the top of my voice, I screamed, ‘Tom’s coming for me!’

Clamping his hand over my mouth, he dragged me the last few feet through the bushes and to the hole in the fence next to the railway tracks.

CHAPTER 38

Tom – Thursday: 00:33 Hrs.

Idon’t know how long I’d been out for, but I guessed it hadn’t been long as the back wheels of the police car were still spinning and the side of it was yet to be covered totally in snow. I could hear a faint voice. My head hurt and I felt groggy. Next to me in the snow lay the handset from the car radio.

‘X-ray-five-one from control, what is your location?’ The control room operator was calling through the handset.

I reached for it and placed it next to my mouth. ‘I’m not sure of my exact location. But I’m somewhere near to Oakgrove Road . . .’

Another voice cut over me. ‘X-ray-four-six to control, I’m near that location. Tell him to stick the car lights on to guide me in.’

I recognised Jackson’s voice. What was he doing out here? I wondered. Deep inside, I was very glad that he was.

‘X-ray-five-one to control, my car lights are on,’ I said, trying to get to my feet.

‘Not the headlights, you muppet!’ I heard Jackson’s voice groan through the radio. ‘The emergency lights.’

I propped myself against the upturned car, reached in and hit the switch on the dashboard. The night pulsed with the strobes of blue and white light.

‘I’ve gotcha!’ Jackson shouted. ‘X-ray-four-six to control, I can see him. I’m making my way to him now.’

‘C’mon!’ I shouted into the night. Then, as if it might make him get to me more quickly, I reached back into the car and flipped on the sirens.

The sound was deafening. I covered my ears. In the distance, I saw two faint beams of light heading towards me. I pushed myself off the side of the car. With the snow driving hard into my face, I waved my arms back and forth above my head. Then, to acknowledge that he had seen me, Jackson switched on his own lights and sirens. To me, in that moment, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

I waved my arms frantically in the air. ‘C’mon! C’mon!’

Jackson drew up alongside me and I opened the door.

‘What are you playing at?’ Jackson shouted, as I slammed the car door shut behind me. ‘And I’ll tell you something else for nothing, the Governor is going to go ape-shit when he sees what you’ve done to that car.’

‘Screw the car,’ I breathed, trying to catch my breath.

Jackson saw the blood on my face. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Do I look all right?’ I gasped.

‘What I meant is, are you injured? Do you need to go to hospital?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Just get me as close as you can to the railway tracks.’

‘Why?’ he said, moving the car forward again through the snow.

‘I haven’t got time to explain. Where’s the Guv? Is he on his way?’

‘The old fart was having trouble getting the car out of the yard,’ he said. ‘Lois is with him, they’re some way behind.’

‘Did you tell him what I told you?’ I pushed.

‘I didn’t get a chance,’ Jackson said. ‘I found him in the office holding a fax printout. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack or something. Then, he starts shouting that we’ve got to get out here. He nearly knocked me flying as he went racing out the office and . . .’

‘There!’ I shouted, spotting the opening to the dirt track. ‘Stop the car!’

‘Whose car is that?’ Jackson asked, pointing through the window. There was a car parked on the opposite side of the road. It was white and the roof was covered with such a thick layer of snow it was barely visible. I screwed up my eyes and peered through the windscreen. Then, seeing the dent in the back of the car, my heart sank.

‘I know who that car belongs too. I need to get out,’ I shouted, yanking on the door handle.

‘Hang on, will you?’ Jackson shouted back at me, bringing the car to a halt.

I clambered from the car. ‘Thanks, Jackson.’

‘For what?’ he asked.

‘For coming after me.’

‘That’s what coppers do, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘We watch each other’s backs, because if we don’t, no one else will.’

‘I guess,’ I said, before running into the dark.

‘Where are you going?’ Jackson roared. ‘Should I wait for the Guv? What’s going on?’

I didn’t stop to explain. With my legs still feeling like rubber and with blood in my eyes, I ran as fast and as hard as I could through the snow towards the railway tracks.

CHAPTER 39

Charley – Thursday: 00:42 Hrs.

He held me so tightly, I was sure I could hear the sound of his pounding heart over the noise of the approaching sirens. With his hand clamped over my mouth, I was finding it difficult to breathe. I felt as if I were suffocating. I wrapped my fingers around his hand, and tried to pull it away from over my mouth.

‘Stop struggling,’ he whispered; his voice sounded cold, just like it had in my flashes. He didn’t sound like my dad – he wasn’t my dad any more. This wasn’t the man who I’d listened to Elvis with by the Christmas tree while I sipped pink lemonade. That man had gone now. Perhaps he had never really existed. It had all just been some kind of act.

With my mouth covered by his hand, and his other arm coiled around me like a snake, he hurried me towards the hole. I could hear the sirens coming nearer. I tried to dig my heels into the ground, but they just slid over the icy surface. When that failed to slow him, I reached out with my hands and grasped at the thorn bushes. My gloves were thick, but not thick enough to stop the thorns piercing my flesh. My eyes rolled in their sockets as I stifled a scream behind his hand.

We reached the fence. Pressing my face against the metal mesh, he brushed his cheek next to mine and whispered in my ear. ‘I’m going to take my hand away now. Don’t make a noise, Charley, or struggle. Don’t draw this out. This is as painful for me as it is for you. Your suffering will soon be over and so will mine. Be quiet and let’s get this over with. Do you understand me?’

I nodded and felt his hand slip from over my mouth. He pulled an old plastic bottle from his coat pocket and unscrewed the cap.

‘Here, drink some of this,’ he ordered, thrusting the bottle at me. Some of the black liquid splashed over the neck of the bottle. ‘It will numb the pain . . .’

I threw my head back and screamed, ‘Tom! Tom! It’s my dad. He’s going to—’

Before I’d finished, my head snapped backwards. It wasn’t because of the flashes; it was the sheer weight and force of my dad’s fist smashing into my face that threw my head back. For a second everything went black and I felt the coppery taste of blood in my mouth as it gushed from my nose. My head rolled forward again, and before my chin had hit my chest he was pulling my hair.

‘I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?’ he hissed, his breath hot against my face. ‘I’ve been nice and reasonable with you up until now. Can’t you see I’m just trying to help you?’

I opened my eyes and looked into his. Then, through a throat full of blood, I screamed again. ‘Tom!’ But it came out as a muffled gargle as my father upended the bottle and poured the foul mixture into my mouth.

With his fingers entwined in my hair, he yanked my head backwards. ‘Swallow,’ he hissed.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

Feet running. Railway tracks. A set of railway points closing.

Flash!

I opened my eyes to find myself being dragged through the hole in the fence. The ground beneath me felt like a bed of hard broken stone. It made a rattling noise as I was pulled over it. The air smelt of grease and oil. I glanced sideways, and only inches from my face, I saw the gleaming steel of the railway tracks.

‘No!’ I tried to scream, but with my head rolled backwards and my throat clogged with blood and burning with the taste of strong alcohol, it sounded as if I were drowning more than screaming. I could hear the sound of my dad panting as he dragged me over the tracks. Once he had me positioned between them, he pinned my arms down so I couldn’t move.

He leaned over me, lowering his face so the tips of our noses were almost touching. My heart was racing so fast in my chest it seemed to be beating in my ears. ‘You won’t get away with this,’ I gargled. ‘They’ll know you left me here to die.’

‘They’ll think you tripped and knocked yourself unconscious,’ he whispered.

‘Please,’ I choked, a bubble of black blood popping on my lips. I thrashed and kicked my legs, raising my pelvis in a last attempt to throw him from me. But he was too heavy – too strong.

He seemed to enjoy the struggle, as he stared down into my face and smiled. ‘Good night, Charley,’ he whispered. ‘Have sweet dreams.’

The tracks beneath me began to vibrate. A train was coming.

‘It would be so much easier for both of us if you’d had just a little more of my brew,’ he said.

The tracks began to rattle. I knew he couldn’t risk being seen by the driver of the approaching train. I screwed my eyes shut and thought of Tom. I had just formed a picture of his smile in my mind, when my dad lifted my head off the track, then slammed it back down again.

Tom’s smile faded as everything went black and I slipped into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 40

Tom – Thursday: 00:42 Hrs.

Ithought I heard the sound of a scream, but I couldn’t be sure. The wind was blowing so hard around me it drowned out everything, even the sound of my own breathing. I raced down the dirt track. My feet crunched deep into the snow, which now covered my ankles. With my hands shielding my eyes, I peered into the darkness searching for the gap in the hedge that led to the old house.

‘Where is it?’ I shouted aloud. Why hadn’t I brought a torch? Behind me the lights from the police car blazed on and off like streaks of lightning. Then, in one of those sparks of light, I saw the broken down bushes that led to the path and the house. I stomped through the snow towards it, the blood above my eye congealing in the cold.

With the night sky lit by the distant emergency lights, I could just make out two sets of footprints in the snow. One set looked fresher than the other. I guessed the first set had been Charley’s, the newer set, her father’s. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing out here as well. Maybe he had also discovered that Charley was coming to the house. But who had sent her the messages?

Bent forward, I headed up the hill, my face and hands numb with the cold. I followed the footprints to the open doorway of the house and peered inside.

‘Charley?’ I shouted. ‘Can you hear me?’

My calls were only met by the sound of the wind that screamed around the building. Then I saw it, shining back at me from the corner of the main room. Charley’s torch. I picked it up and, heading back to the door, saw that the glass and bulb inside had been smashed. Had Charley been involved in some kind of struggle? Had she dropped her torch in fright? If so, what had scared her so much?

I headed back out into the snow, and saw footprints leading down towards the railway lines. Two sets of prints: Charley’s and her father’s. But why would her dad take her down to the tracks?

In the distance, I heard the sound of a train. But there was something else, another sound. The noise of the driver blowing his horn, as if giving a warning.

‘Charley!’ I roared. I dropped her torch and tore through the undergrowth as I raced down the hill.

CHAPTER 41

Charley – Thursday: 00:53 Hrs.

The noise roused me. It was loud and very close, and getting closer by the second. It came again; it sounded like a scream. I was cold and my head hurt. It felt swollen and raw. My throat was painful and I found it hard to swallow.

Whatever I was lying on dug into my neck and shoulders – and it was shaking. It was like my whole body was rattling. Had I thrown another fit? Had I seen more of those flashes and collapsed?

The sound had a rhythm to it. Like a heartbeat. Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! But there was another sound. This one was louder, violent sounding. Like some kind of warning signal.

I opened my eyes and glanced in the direction of the noise. Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! There was a bright light racing towards me out of the darkness. I put my hands over my eyes. Between my fingers I saw a black shape behind this bright light and it was growing bigger with every passing second. It made that sound again, and it was so loud now I flinched. It came again and again and again. And then, as if seeing those flashes, I remembered my dad dragging me on the . . .

Tracks!

The driver blew his horn. The train was so close now; I could hear its wheels squealing against the steel of the tracks. I tried to get up, but collapsed again, it was like all of my strength had been sucked from me. I tried again, but my head felt so heavy it was as if it were pulling me back towards the ground.

Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack!

Nearer and nearer! Louder and louder!

I gripped the rails. Scraping my knees over the sharp chips of stone between the tracks, I tried to get up. With my back arched and the glare of the approaching headlights blinding me, I took a step forward, but collapsed again across the rails.

The driver blew his horn again and the noise was deafening.

Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack!

Faster and Faster! The light, brighter and brighter!

I looked up one last time, and the train was so close now I could see the driver sitting in his cab, his face a white mask, hovering in a sea of darkness. The horn sounded again and wrapping my arms about myself, I rolled over the tracks and out of the path of the train. I hadn’t even completed my roll when the train screamed past, just inches from me. It travelled at such speed I felt my whole body lift off the ground. For one frantic moment, it felt like I was being sucked beneath the wheels. The sound was like a giant beast, howling and roaring its guts out in anger.

Then it was gone, speeding away into the distance, a trail of snow billowing in its wake. I lay and watched the snow settle, gasping in lungfuls of ice-cold air. As the huge white flakes floated before me, I saw something move on the other side of the tracks. With every one of my survival instincts screaming at me to get up, I peered through the blizzard. My dad was crossing the tracks towards me.

Body trembling in shock and fear, I cried out in pain and staggered to my feet. Every inch of me ached and throbbed, and I wondered if I had been hit by that train after all. But the sight of my dad racing across the tracks told me otherwise. I staggered away from him, the loose pieces of stone between the tracks and beneath the snow making me wobble and lose my balance. With my hands outstretched, I lurched forward. I could hear my dad behind me, his feet stomping over the snow.

I glanced back over my shoulder. He appeared like some dark apparition. ‘Get away from me!’ I screamed. Then as if he had punched me in the face again, my head snapped backwards.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

Feet running through snow, crunching over stone. A train in the distance. Track points closing. Screaming. I was screaming! Tom! I could see Tom! More screaming.

Flash! Flash!

No, Tom! I screamed. Blood spraying over white snow. No Tom! I screamed again.

Flash!

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on my back. My dad was leaning over me, reaching for me.

‘Get off!’ I yelled, drawing my knees up to my chest and kicking out at him. My boots landed in his soft belly and he staggered backwards. His arms wheeled and he fell onto his back, making a belching sound as the air rushed from his lungs. He clawed at the sky as he tried to get up.

I scrambled to my feet. I didn’t know which way to run. Panicked, I followed the tracks into the white wall of snow that fell all around me. In the distance I could see a light. It grew brighter with every passing second. The rails beneath me started to rattle again, and I knew there was another train approaching. I left the tracks, hoping I was heading towards the hole in the fence.

There was a grinding sound beneath me, and I looked down and blinked. The tracks were moving. How was that possible? Tracks didn’t move, did they? Then I realised what was happening. I was standing by a set of track points, and they were closing. I glanced up and saw the train as it raced towards me. It wasn’t far away now and was approaching at an incredible rate. I turned away to head back towards the fence when I was grabbed from behind.

‘Charley,’ Dad whispered in my ear, and then he screamed.

He released his hold on me and looked down. I followed his eye-bulging stare. The points had closed over his foot, trapping it between them. ‘Help me, Charley,’ he gasped. ‘Please.’

The train was coming.

Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack!

‘Please, Charley,’ he pleaded, the anger in his voice gone. Instead, he just sounded scared and desperate. His voice reminded me of Kerry Underwood’s as she had begged for her mother.

The train was just seconds away.

‘Please!’ he screamed.

I looked into his eyes, and I could see his fear. I couldn’t watch him die, whatever he had done.

Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack!

The driver blew on his horn. I lunged forward and took hold of my dad’s hands. I pulled at him, desperate to drag him free. However much I tried to set him free, it was impossible.

Realising his fate, my father pushed me backwards and out of the path of the oncoming train.

‘What are you doing?’ I screamed. ‘I’m trying to save you.’

‘Run, Charley. Save yourself,’ he smiled. It wasn’t a cruel smile, it was like the smiles he’d had the day we’d decorated the Christmas tree together. It was a kind smile.

‘No!’ I cried out.

Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack! Clackerty-Clack!

I tripped backwards and was thrown clear of the tracks.

‘Stay back,’ someone roared in my ear. It was Tom. His face was covered in dried blood.

‘Tom!’ I screamed over the sound of the approaching train. ‘Tom, we’ve got to save my dad.’

Tom looked at me and shouted, ‘It’s too late, Charley!’

‘No!’ I started back towards the tracks, but Tom held me back. I looked one last time at my dad as he waved his arms desperately above his head as if trying to attract the driver’s attention.

Then, he was gone.

CHAPTER 42

Charley – Thursday: 01:17 Hrs.

Tom folded his arms around me. I buried my face against his chest to drown out the sound of my sobs. I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest. I had never known such pain before. The urge to lie down and never get up again was unbearable. I didn’t know how I would ever move past this place. Everything I had seen and learnt about my mum and dad was agonising.

‘It was your dad who killed those girls, wasn’t it?’ Tom whispered.

‘Yes,’ I replied through my sobs. ‘Please don’t tell anyone what he did.’

‘Charley, we can’t keep something like this a secret,’ he said. ‘Look, we’ve already got company.’

I peered over the crook of his elbow and could see torchlight heading in our direction along the tracks. ‘Please don’t tell them,’ I said, looking up into his eyes. ‘Please.’

Tom brushed the tears from my cheeks then gently kissed me. ‘Whatever happens, Charley, whatever anyone says about your dad and what he did, I will believe in you. Nothing will ever change that.’

‘Thank you,’ I cried.

The sound of feet trampling over the tracks grew closer. I looked up to see Harker and two others coming towards us. ‘Who’s that with Harker?’ I asked. I didn’t want to say anything about my dad in front of people I didn’t know.

‘The guy is DC Jackson, and the woman is my skipper. Her name is Lois,’ Tom told me.

‘What’s happened here?’ Harker barked, the shoulders of his fluorescent coat covered with snow.

Tom looked at me, then turning to face Harker. ‘Charley’s father has been struck by a train. He’s dead.’

‘Is this true?’ Harker asked me, cocking one of his bushy eyebrows.

‘Yes,’ I whispered, holding on to Tom.

Harker clapped his hands together, then looked at Tom’s colleagues. ‘Well don’t just stand there, you two. Let’s get the ball rolling. Get some uniform down here, and Jackson, you go and speak with the driver.’

‘Yes, boss,’ Jackson grunted and walked away, back up the tracks to where the train had come to a halt. Lois followed him. She hadn’t gone far when Harker called out to her. ‘Sergeant, can you contact the coroner? I think we’ll be able to wrap this one up nice and quickly.’

‘Yes, Guv,’ she said, throwing a quizzical look, then turning and walking away.

‘I don’t think it will be as easy as that,’ Tom said.

‘Oh no?’ Harker asked, staring at him. ‘It looks pretty straightforward to me. Death by misadventure, I’d say.’

‘How do you figure that out?’ Tom asked. ‘With all due respect, sir, you’ve only just arrived on-scene.’

Harker produced a beige folder from inside his coat. He briefly flicked through it, and then tucked it away again. ‘Your mum committed suicide down here nearly eleven years ago, didn’t she, Charley?’

‘How do you know about that?’ I whispered, tears falling against my cheeks.

‘I found her file the other day when I was going back over the deaths that have taken place out here over the last ten years or so,’ he explained.

‘Charley, you never said anything to me about . . .’ Tom said, sounding shocked.

‘I only found out the other day,’ I told him. ‘Dad had kept it a secret from me.’

‘And who could’ve blamed him?’ Harker half-smiled. ‘What a terrible thing to have to tell your child. But the news troubled you, didn’t it, Charley? It played on your mind. It ate away at you. Stopped you from sleeping. I can understand that. And what with all the reports lately about the death of poor Kerry Underwood dying up here, and the tragic loss of your friend, it made the news about your mother all the more painful to deal with. So you decided to come here, didn’t you, Charley?’ he asked, fixing me with his stare.

‘You wanted to be close to where your mother died. You wanted to be able to grieve properly for the first time. Then, your father comes home to find you gone. He worked out where you had come to and raced out here. Wanting to be left to grieve in private, you ran through that hole in the fence back there. Realising the danger you were in, he came after you. But in the snow and the dark, he got disorientated and staggered out onto the tracks, where sadly . . . Well you know the rest.’

‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’ Tom gasped, staring at Harker.

Ignoring Tom, Harker looked at me and said, ‘Unless Charley has anything different to add?’

I didn’t say anything.

With a smile of satisfaction, he looked at Tom. ‘Case closed.’

‘You know as well as I do that Charley’s father killed those girls,’ Tom snapped, releasing me from his hold.

‘Yes,’ Harker nodded.

‘Then we need to investigate it,’ Tom said.

‘Investigate what, Constable?’ Harker asked. ‘There is not one shred of physical evidence to say that Charley’s father was involved in the deaths of those girls. We have no witnesses. No CCTV. Nothing.’

‘We have Charley,’ Tom said.

‘Do you seriously think I’m going to file a report stating I believe the deaths out here are the work of a serial killer on the say so of your seventeen-year-old friend, who claims to have seen it all in a series of flashes? Jesus Christ, Tom, use your brain. I’d be laughed out of the force.’

‘But it’s the truth,’ Tom insisted. ‘And it’s the truth that matters. I didn’t become a police officer to cover things up. I didn’t . . .’

Before I even knew what was happening, Harker had closed the gap between him and Tom. With his face just an inch from Tom’s, Harker hissed, ‘Why don’t you go around to Mr and Mrs Underwood’s right now and tell them their beautiful daughter was dragged through the filth and the mud by some nutter. Then terrorised, forced to drink until she was unconscious, then laid across a set of railway tracks. Tell the mother that Charley heard Kerry begging to call her – tell her how Kerry’s last dying wish was to talk to her mum on the phone. And when Mrs Underwood collapses broken-hearted to the floor, tell her how you know all this. Tell her about Charley and her flashes. Go on, Henson. Go and tell her.’

‘But it’s the truth,’ Tom whispered.

‘That woman couldn’t handle the truth!’ Harker said. ‘Jackson was right. Kerry Underwood left the pub drunk, decided against getting a cab and walked home. It started to rain and she took a short cut home across the tracks. Not easy for the Underwoods to deal with, but easier than knowing that their daughter’s last moments on this Earth were a nightmare. Do you understand what I’m saying, Constable?’

Tom looked away.

‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Tom whispered.

Then, turning to face me, Harker held out his hand and said, ‘Give me your phone.’

‘Why?’ I asked, taking it from my pocket.

‘I read the list of messages on the fax that came through to the office,’ Harker explained, taking the phone from me. He looked at it, and then dropped it onto the ground. He crushed it under his heel and kicked the smashed pieces of plastic into the under-growth.

‘I don’t believe I just saw you destroy a piece of evidence,’ Tom said.

‘Believe what you want, Henson,’ Harker said, turning away.

‘And what do you believe?’ I called after him. ‘Do you believe me?’

Harker turned slowly to face me, and said, ‘Yes, Charley, I do believe you. I do believe you see things in your flashes – things that no one else can see.’

‘So what now?’ I asked.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ he smiled. ‘I’m sure you will be of great help to me in the future.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Tom asked, taking my hand in his.

‘Let’s just say that with Charley’s gift, she may be able to point us in the right direction should we ever . . . well, you know . . . need an extra clue or two in the future,’ he smiled.

‘But I thought you said no one would believe her,’ Tom said.

‘I’m not planning on going public about getting Charley to help us,’ he said. ‘It will be a secret shared only by us three. I’ll keep your secret, Charley, about what really happened up here tonight. I’m sure you can keep one or two for me.’

‘But . . .’ Tom started.

Before he’d had a chance to get his words out, Harker looked at him. ‘That invitation for Christmas dinner is still open, you know. To the both of you.’

Tom wrapped his arm around my shoulder and said, ‘No thanks, sir. I think Charley and I will just spend Christmas Day together.’

‘You do realise McDonald’s will be closed on Christmas Day, don’t you?’ he smiled. Then he was gone, disappearing into the snow.

Tom stood and held my hand. ‘What happens now, Charley?’

‘Take me home, stay with me tonight,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

He wrapped his arm around my waist and together we left those railway lines, the dilapidated house and what happened there behind us.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to give special thanks my wife, Lynda, and three sons, Joseph, Thomas and Zachary, for putting up with me. I would also like to thank Barry Cunningham for being the first publisher to take a chance on me, and Imogen Cooper for all her advice and help. Both of you have brought out the very best in Flashes. Thank you. Thanks to my agent Peter Buckman for signing me on that cold snowy day in March and for telling me to go away and write a gripping mystery for young adults. I hope I’ve done that with Flashes.

Although Flashes was the first of my books to be signed by a publisher I had been self-publishing my stories on the internet since 2011. During that time I have sold 300,000 books and none of that would have been possible without the army of loyal fans who follow my stories and tell all their friends and family about them. So I am truly grateful to the following fans who have encouraged me:

Lisa Ammari, Jennifer Martin-Green, Carles Barrios, Shanna Benedict, Carolyn Johnson Pinard, Caroline Barker, Amanda Golder, Sarah Lane, Rose Lennart, Spandana Nallamilli, Louise Chapman, James Hodson, Marsha Meadows, Rose Freeman, Toni Francis, Lindy Roberts, Zoey Burns, Roz Hilditch, Kara Cheney, Erica Paddock, Stacey Szita, Gemma Dahren, Michelle Wilton, Paul Collins Bullet, Shereen Baldwin, Courtney Jackson, Noreen Mc Cartan-Doran, Trish Diehm, Cassie Sansom, Michelle Brearley, Conny CH, Shelley Mckelvey, Cathy Douglas, Tina Altman, Shelbey Proudfoot, Teresa Walsh, Jackie McLeish, Heidi Madgwick, Claire White, Kellie Micallef, Maureen Harn, Rachel Micallef, Nereid Gwilliams, Tricia McDaniel, Jen Rosenkrans Montgomery, Wendy Wiegert, Robbie Parker, Joanne Lonsdale, Michelle Hayman, Sue McGarvie, Lieann Stonebank, Abbey Pearson, Jessica Claire, Jennifer Goehl, Maria Vargas, Stacey Tucker, Michelle Thornton, Kathy Howrey Brand, Holly Harper, Sarah Isherwood-Smith, Kiera Hayles, Savannah Harrop, Amber Mundwiller, Kathleen Guardado, MaryAnn Brittingham, Laura Wootton, Lois Li, Tara Taggart, Andreia Lopes, Kimberly Mayberry, Helen Louise Ellis, Ruth Morgan, Tina Langford, Melissa Wright, Rebecca Holloway, Cally Munn, Rachel Roddy, Sabrina Christine Quarantillo, Tina Altman, MaryAnn Brittingham, Amanda Duke Ne Carlin, Krystale Willis, Etta Mellett, Julie Garner Shaw, Lindy Roberts, Shellie Hedge, Sam McMullen, Jackie McLeish, Jen Clachrie, Amanda Anderson, Jaime-Leigh Wilton, Jordan Wilton, Jemma Wood, Barbara Grubb, Heidi Madgwick, April Harvey, Lisa Kresco-Churchey, Samantha O’Rourke, Jade Sutherland, Stephen Gibson, Kay Donley, Beata Janik, Warren Bixby, Helen Websdale, Fiona Nelson, Gemma Rushton, Kristen Heyl, Michelle Thornton, Nikki Espiritu, Jenn Waterman, Nikki Ayres, Gayle Morell, Nichola Dickson, MaryAnn Brittingham, Lee Creed, Wayne Millard, Jenna N. Waller, Jolene Saunders, Patricia Lavery, Ally Esmonde, Julie-Anne Hope, Hannah Landsburgh, Kayleigh Morgan Griffiths, Clare O’Neil, Bernice Thomas, Abbie Robertson and Marilyn Waters.

Thank you all so much.

Hugs,

Tim xx

Text © Tim O’Rourke 2014

This electronic edition published in 2014
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Table of Contents

- Title page

- Contents

- Chapter 29 Charley – Wednesday: 21:55 Hrs.

- Chapter 30 Tom – Wednesday: 22:50 Hrs.

- Chapter 31 Charley – Wednesday: 22:33 Hrs.

- Chapter 32 Tom – Wednesday: 23:22 Hrs.

- Chapter 33 Charley – Wednesday: 23:48 Hrs.

- Chapter 34 Tom – Wednesday: 23:48 Hrs.

- Chapter 35 Charley – Thursday: 00:03 Hrs.

- Chapter 36 Tom – Thursday: 00:23 Hrs.

- Chapter 37 Charley – Thursday: 00:33 Hrs.

- Chapter 38 Tom – Thursday: 00:33 Hrs.

- Chapter 39 Charley – Thursday: 00:42 Hrs.

- Chapter 40 Tom – Thursday: 00:42 Hrs.

- Chapter 41 Charley – Thursday: 00:53 Hrs.

- Chapter 42 Charley – Thursday: 01:17 Hrs.

- Acknowledgements

- Copyright