Darkness Falls (Kate Marshall, #3)(81)

There was a long pause, and a blast of wind blew around the car, stirring up the leaves and rubbish by the curb and blowing his brown hair. He looked down at his feet, and Nick wondered what he needed the money for. To live? To buy drugs? To buy more of those white trainers?

“It’s Paul.”

“Hi, Paul. How much for the whole night?”

“Three hundred cash, up front.”

Paul smelled of aftershave and soap.

“Come round to the passenger side,” said Nick and closed the window. He watched Paul walk behind the car and wondered why he was in such a rough area on the street. The good-looking ones were moving over to using the phone apps. It was easier, and safer to a degree, and of course there was a digital trail of bread crumbs should the police get involved.

A police car appeared up ahead, and Paul must have noticed it, because he carried on past behind Nick’s car and crossed the street and started off down the road in the other direction.

Nick opened the console between the front seats and looked down at the neatly stocked champagne and Coke bottles in the minifridge. He slammed it shut.

It was then that he came to his senses and realized he’d been on autopilot. He’d come so close to picking up Paul. He never picked up young men as himself. The first few times, he’d done it as Nick Lacey, but that was years ago, and the more he got away with it, the more there was to lose. So he’d started using different names and disguises, small alterations to his appearance to make him look different. Steve, Graham, Frank, and Tom, his most recent alter ego when he’d picked up Hayden Oakley.

He’d been checking the news every day to see if the police had charged Noah Huntley. They were questioning him, and no doubt waiting for the DNA results to come back from the underwear that Nick had planted in his car.

It put him in a bind. If Noah Huntley went to trial and was convicted for the murders of David Lamb, Gabe Kemp, and those two other men whose names now escaped him, he was off the hook. It would also mean that he’d have to change his methods if he wished to carry on.

The police car reached the end of the long road and turned off to the right.

Paul came walking out of the side road where he’d been waiting, and Nick saw him coming back.

He gripped the wheel of the car. The desire to capture and torture this young buck into submission and death was overwhelming.

He mentally wrenched himself away, and with the smell of Paul’s aftershave still in the air, he put the car in gear and pulled out, heading back to Burnham-on-Sea.





46


Kate could see Tristan was scared as they drove up to Burnham-on-Sea early Monday morning to confront Nick Lacey. She felt apprehensive, too, at the prospect of them coming face-to-face. They’d spent the past day tracking down additional witnesses and verifying details.

It had been sunny and warm when they left Ashdean, but the weather deteriorated as they drove on the M5, and it was cloudy and overcast in Burnham-on-Sea. They parked in the same spot as before. The wind was roaring across the vast, empty beach, blowing the sand in drifts toward them.

“Are you ready for this?” Kate asked Tristan.

“No,” said Tristan. “Have you got the photo?”

Kate nodded.

He locked the car, and they started walking up the sandy track toward Nick Lacey’s house. Part of Kate was hoping that Nick wouldn’t be back from his business trip, but as they were halfway up the track, Elspeth appeared from the house, walking toward them, swinging her stick.

“Good morning!” she said cheerily. She wore a thick headscarf and sunglasses.

Kate and Tristan wished her a good morning and went to carry on walking.

“We seem to get the brunt of the wind screaming across the Bristol Channel,” she said. “But we do get a few nice days too!” The wind had strengthened, and she had to shout the last part. To their right was the field of ferns and weeds, and the sand made a crackling sound as it blew up from the beach and hit the leaves. “Are you looking for Nick?” she shouted after them.

“Yes,” said Kate.

“He’s in. I’ve just come from there for my regular early-morning coffee,” shouted Elspeth. She staggered a little as she was buffeted by the wind. “This wind doesn’t seem to be letting up,” she said, and with a wave, she put her head down and carried on walking toward the beach.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” said Tristan.

“Course not,” said Kate.

It was an easier walk with the wind at her back. They reached the front door, far too quickly for Kate’s liking.

“The important thing is to keep him talking,” she said. “I have my Mace.”

“Do you think you’ll need it? It could backfire on us if you use it . . . It’s not legal to carry.”

“It’s an absolute last resort.”

Tristan nodded and swallowed. “Do you think he knows we’re coming?”

“We’re John and Maureen, remember?” said Kate, trying to make a joke, but neither of them laughed. “Okay?”

Tristan nodded.

“Okay.”

Kate leaned over and rang the bell. A moment passed, and then another. The wind seemed to scream up from the beach.

What if he refuses to answer the door? thought Kate. What if that neighbor told him we’d been here last week and he started to put things together?