Hide and Seek (22 page)

CHAPTER 46

21:08pm

The basement door clattered noisily as it thudded off the cabin floor. Peter stared down into the black hole. The cat litter box smell wafted up to his nose again and he scrunched his face in disgust as it stung his nostrils. He retched slightly.

He moved over to the tall standing lamp by the couch, removed the shade and carried the lamp
back to the basement door. The wire of the plug wasn’t long and didn’t reach so he laid it on the floor with the bulb as close to the door as he could get it.

He could now see the top few steps of a wooden staircase. Peter stepped onto the top stair and ducking down he started to descend the staircase. In the slightly illuminated path he could see a wall at the bottom
, with the rest of the basement behind the staircase. He tentatively continued down the stairs, wary that at any moment a hand could come between the exposed stairs and grab his legs.

He reached the bottom and turned to
peer into the dark basement. His sixth sense told him he was alone, but he didn’t feel certain. Something was dangling in front of him, something metal which glinted slightly in the low light emanating from the lamp at the top of the stairs. He reached out and grabbed it. It was a light switch cord. He yanked the chain and a single light bulb came on, illuminating the basement.

He had been right; there was no one down here. The
room stretched out ahead of him taking up half the space of the living room above him. The floor was covered in an old carpet, which looked oddly familiar. It was faded red and adorned with patterned swirls of black that looked like mini crop circles. At the far end sat a large desk, like an artist’s desk, which was covered in various folders and pieces of paper. Above the desk he could see a map of Bilton pinned to the faux wood effect laminate wall panels. To the left of the desk was a workbench and adorning the shelves around it were numerous work tools such as drills, hammers and saws. To the right of the desk stood an empty cage, which rose from the floor to the ceiling. It looked like a bird cage you would find in a pet store. The floor of the cage was uncovered and the ground was disturbed, as if it had been dug up recently. Amongst the churned earth he could see white crystal chunks that sparkled in the light. There was no mistaking that the smell was coming from those crystals. He imagined being inside that cage … trapped, cowering in the corner, shivering and crying.

He walked towards the desk
. He could now make out marker pen circles and colour coordinated pins highlighting specific areas of the map on the wall. His heart dropped as he recognised the places: the flats, Low Grange shops, a building on the high street, the secondary school, a building on Bilton Green, the industrial estate. A giant X marked a spot in Durden Woods which he surmised was the location of the cabin itself.

‘Jesus Christ.’

If he’d only come down here earlier he would have discovered where the Excellent Eight had been hidden. Peter could feel tears welling up inside him. He could have saved all of them.

He flicked through the paperwork on the desk. He could see sketches and blueprints for devices. His heart dropped again as he recognised one of them, the contraption shaped like a catapult which had thrown Colin
from the top floor of the flats. A stack of files lay at one end; the top file had Gavin Blair written across the front. He lifted it up to look at the one below - it had Colin Clark written on it. He continued rifling down and seeing all the names of the Excellent Eight - in the exact order that they had taken part in the game.

He opened Gavin Blair’s file
. It contained scraps of paper covered with notes about Gavin. He skim read and realised they were descriptions on his personal life, that he was married with children, recollections of incidents that involved Gavin as a child and notes on medication that could be used to cause cardiac arrest.

He picked up Colin Clark’s file
. It was essentially the same, but included smaller, rudimentary sketches of the catapult contraption. Peter saw that amongst the text on the page, the story of Colin falling down the stairs at the flats was circled, and the clue which Celo had given him was scrawled next to it.

Peter dropped the file, he felt sick. He leant over the desk, breathing heavily, his world was revolving again. Peter took a few moments to compose himself with deep breaths.

He opened the desk drawers and looked inside. They were full of medical journals and textbooks. Could it be possible that he’d taught himself the things he had needed for his sick game?

Peter moved over to the other side of the desk and rifled through the drawers
there. He found a certificate of course completion entitled Emergency Medical Training.

The name of the recipient on the award was Peter Stevenson.

He was confused. Why was his name on this certificate? He turned it over, feeling the quality of the paper and rubbing his thumb over the seal on the front to try and ascertain whether it was a fake. He concluded that if it was counterfeit it felt like a very high quality forged document. He continued looking through the drawer and found an ID badge for Bilton General Hospital. The name on the badge was Peter Stevenson.

He started to back away from the desk, as the world started
spinning again.

‘He’s stolen my identity.’

He had suspected that Celo was framing him; this – sickeningly - confirmed it. And then it struck him … was Celo going to turn up here at all?

Thoughts were racing through his head. Is that why Celo had put him here in the morning and led him back here? His fingerprints would be all over the cabin now. He had just touched all the files on the desk. The police would
assume he – rather than Celo - had been using this as his den, to devise his sick game. Celo
wasn’t
going to turn up after all. He had lied to him. He should have gone straight to the police; he should have gone with Steve.

Peter hadn
’t noticed the sound of footsteps creeping down the stairs behind him. But he did hear the click of a gun being cocked, ready to shoot. He froze, terrified. His eyes darted frantically around the basement, it was no use, there was nowhere to hide. Celo had turned up after all and was going to kill him.

CHAPTER 47

21:17pm

Peter raised his hands in a submissive gesture and closed his eyes expecting the worst. He thought of his wife and his son and felt regret that he would never see their bright smiling faces again. He heard the sound of more footsteps on the floor above him. Celo was not alone.

‘Don’t you fucking move,’ the
man on the stairs shouted out.

Peter opened his eyes
. The man behind him wasn’t Celo. Peter felt the cold steel of handcuffs wrap around his right wrist.

The police officer pushed him forward roughly and shoved his face down on the desk. He pulled his arm down behind his back and then grabbed Peter’s left arm. Peter winced as a bolt of pain from the wound jolted up his arm. The police officer
handcuffed his hands together.

‘We’ve got him,
’ he shouted up the stairs.

Peter could hear a cacophony of noise and commotion as numerous police officers came down the stairs whilst others ran about upstairs checking the rooms. The police officer grabbed his wrists h
ard and yanked him up straight.

‘Come on you bastard.’

Peter didn’t say a word as he was led up the staircase back to the ground floor of the cabin. His mind was racing.

Armed police officers
stood in a row, watching as he was led through them like a celebrity on the red carpet walking between gathering fans and journalists. Only the faces weren’t looking at him adoringly. The feelings of malice were evident on all their faces, so much so that Peter thought they might start spitting at him. He felt angry and the injustice built up inside him.

‘It’s not me. You’ve been chasing the wrong man you fucking idiots.’

One of the officers, a large man whose gut poked out from the bottom of the bullet proof vest he was wearing, lunged at him.

‘You sick bastard.’

A commotion of noise broke out as his colleagues grabbed him, wrestling him away from Peter as his fingers clawed at his neck trying to strangle him.

‘For fuck
’s sake Adams, control yourself,’ a senior officer shouted at him.

Peter was led away as the colleagues of Officer Adams gave him reassuring pats on the shoulder and calmed him down as he continued to stare steely
-eyed at Peter.

As he was escorted from the cabin there were more police officers
stationed outside. He had never seen so many policemen and women in his life. The officers who had stormed the cabin were obviously some form of armed response unit - no doubt drafted in from the nearest city to apprehend him. As he was led away Peter thought about the evidence they would collect from the cabin; evidence which pointed squarely at him.

‘You have the wrong man,’ he shouted as he was bundled into the back of a police car.

CHAPTER 48

Monday 26
th
November

03:01am

Peter paced impatiently around his cell. The initial interrogation had been surprisingly brief. He had waived his right to have a solicitor present
- eager to tell his side of the story so that the police knew the killer was still at large.

He
’d tried to recount the entire day’s events to The Sheriff and was aware that his ramblings seemed unlikely and incoherent at best. He was aware that he’d jumped from event to event in no discernable order and went off on tangents as the incidents presented themselves in his mind. The Sheriff had managed to restrain his emotions and remain professional the majority of the time. However, every now and then, Peter had noticed him scowl especially when he talked about the death of Colin and the threat to his daughter. After he was placed back in the cell he had initially sat down and tried to work back through the day so he could explain it better to the officers when the questioning inevitably continued. However, what composure he had gathered, was now lost after a long, nerve-wracking wait. Now he just felt angry at himself. He knew he’d been set up and given all that happened during the day he was irritated that he couldn’t pinpoint
one
piece of evidence which could prove it was Celo and help them find the real killer.

For the last half an hour Peter had stopped thinking about the day’s events and he was thinking about Janine and George. In his haste to recap the day’s events he had forgotten to ask for his one phone call. He wondered if they had been contacted yet and if so, whether they were on their way to Bilton.
How much information would The Sheriff have revealed to her over the phone? He felt regret that his wife had to hear the news from the police. He imagined how scared and upset she must be and wondered what was going through her mind as she drove to Bilton to be with him in his hour of need.

The police station had been a commotion of activity over the last few hours. Peter wondered if they
’d acted on his information and whether they were any closer to finding Celo. He heard multiple footsteps echoing up the corridor growing louder as they approached his cell. The iron bolt creaked back and the door slid open. The Sheriff appeared with an officer he had seen earlier, and an older man sporting a white beard and glasses. He didn’t look like police.

‘Come with us Peter,’ The Sheriff said and escorted him back towards the interview room.

‘Have you contacted my wife?’ Peter asked The Sheriff.

The Sheriff didn’t respond
, simply looked towards the older man. Peter was perturbed by The Sheriff’s reaction. His mood was noticeably uncertain, but he managed a sympathetic smile to Peter.

‘No. Not yet.’

Peter was led into the interview room and took his seat. The Sheriff pressed the record button on the tape recorder.

‘Interview commenced ten past three am on Monday 26
th
November. For the benefit of the tape, present are Chief Superintendent Heron, Superintendent Creedy, Doctor McNulty and Peter Stevenson.’

A
doctor? They must think he was crazy.

The Sheriff withdrew from the table and stepped back to the corner of the room with his colleague, arms folded. Peter’s eyes moved from The Sheriff to the doctor sat at the table. He had a yellow foolscap folder in front of him and fiddled with the edges as he spoke.

‘Hello Peter, I’m Doctor McNulty.’

Peter just nodded agreeably.

‘I’d like to talk to you about the incident that occurred in Durden Woods when you were thirteen years old.’

Peter stared at him
, puzzled.

‘What incident?’

‘The incident when you fell down a hole in Durden Woods.’

He took a few seconds to remember what the doctor was referring to.

‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘It’s important Peter. I’d like you to recall for me what happened to you in August 1992.’

Peter was confused by the doctor’s request but decided to go along with it.

‘We were all playing Hide and Seek in Durden Woods. I was the seeker and the others ran off to hide. I was looking for them and fell into some kind of dug out hole, like a bear trap or something. There were branches covering it and I didn’t realise and fell through. I broke my leg on the way down so I couldn’t climb out.’

‘How long were you in the hole for?’

‘I can’t remember, a few hours I think. It got dark so
… it must have been hours.’

‘Where were the others? Didn’t they come back and find you?’

‘No, they ran off and left me in the woods.’

Peter had a sudden realisation that they still believed he was the killer and that the doctor might be trying to establish some obscure motive. The very idea seemed preposterous.

‘What? You think that I’m angry with them for leaving me in the woods as a kid? You think that has something to do with what’s happened today? That’s ridiculous. It was just a prank. We’d done the same thing to Steve a few weeks before in the flats.’

‘Done what?’

‘You know, he was the seeker, we said we were all going to hide but we just ran off and left him there.’

‘Okay, but weren’t you scared to be left alone in the woods?’

‘I can’t remember. I suppose so. I was in pain from the leg.’

‘What happened next?’

‘A man found me. I suppose he heard me shouting and he helped me out of the hole and took me home.’

Doctor McNulty paused for a moment, looking down at the folder laid out in front of him.

‘Do you remember who the man was? Or what he looked like?’

Peter thought for a moment, he had never really considered the man before. All he could picture was a big strong man, wearing a cap. He recalled that the man had a beard but couldn’t picture his face. Peter remembered the man towering over him, the feeling of coldness seeping from the walls around him, enclosing him. He shook his head as he realised his memories couldn’t be right. The man hadn’t come down into the hole; instead he had lifted him out by hand. He struggled to think again, this time he could see that the walls weren’t made of mud either. They were made of faux wood effect laminate wall panels. He felt confused, he was jumbling up images. The doctor interrupted his thought process.

‘Peter? What do you remember about the man?’

‘I don’t know, I can’t remember who he was. That’s awful isn’t it? Considering he helped me out of the hole and saved me.’

Peter smiled slightly and looked at the doctor and then The Sheriff and his colleague, no one smiled back.

‘What happened next?’
the doctor asked.

‘Nothing, the man carried me back home. I went to the hospital and, as I said, I had a broken leg. And that’s all that happened really
. I was in the hospital for a few days and then I had to have a plaster cast on for six or seven weeks.’

The doctor opened the foolscap file and pulled out a newspaper cutting and handed it to Peter.

‘I would like you to take a look at this and tell me what you think.’

He looked at the newspaper. It was the front page of the
Bilton Courant
dated 18
th
August 1992. The main photograph was a grainy picture of a large bearded man wearing a cap being led away by police, one either side of him. Peter started to read the article.

After a 15-day, town-wide search, the man arrested in connection with the kidnapping of a thirteen-year-old boy was revealed to have been a ‘dangerous individual’ who should not have been allowed on the streets. Robert Paulson, a 49-year-old father of one, was still being questioned by detectives last night.

The boy was found in the basement of Paulson’s cabin in Durden Woods where he was locked in a cage. A passer-by walking his dog raised the alarm after hearing pleas for help on Sunday morning.

The incident has left residents of the area shaken …

Peter looked back up at the doctor quizzically. The doctor stared at him with his eyebrows raised, as if expecting him to have some kind of revelation. Peter started to feel a dark sense of foreboding as images of the man who had rescued him in the woods flashed through his mind again. He didn’t want to ask the question because it made no sense to him, but he felt like he already knew the answer.

‘Who was the boy?’

Doctor McNulty’s face softened in sympathy.

‘Peter, the boy was you.’