My Heart Belongs To You: A Psycho Thriller (3 page)

This was going to be a short conversation
,
thought
Turner
,
as he reached into
the box and pulled out six
files
.
One
for each year of Cupid
’
s reign of terror.
Six files
that held around 100
sheets of typed A4 paper
each
,
along with
a group of photos that could never hope to capture the horror that each set of couples must have gone through at the hands of a monster.
Turner
opened the first file, marked February 2006
,
the first year that Cupid had struck
.
The
first year that two people in love had fallen prey to the twisted mind o
f
a
maniac
.
The graphic photos never failed to make him gasp,
and
never failed to allow the guilt
, which
he carried every day like a disease
running
with spiked shoes through his soul.
If he had done his
job,
five more couples would still be alive today, still breathing, still loving and enjoying life.

‘Mr.
Turner
,
’
prom
p
ted Hanson tersely
,
dragging the detective back from dark inner thoughts.

‘Sor…
sorr
y,
’
stammered
Turner
, ‘
Where
do you want me to start
?’

‘Let’s try the beginning
,
’ responded Hanson.

The beginning was good
,
thought
Turner
.
The
beginning involved other couples not connected to John Hanson
.
 
The
end
was what
Turner
was not looking forward to
,
because that would be where he had to relay his belief that
,
his friend was, in truth, already dead.
He was still breathing
,
because
C
upid didn
’
t kill
’
til the fourteenth
,
but that was irrelevant
.
This
would go the same way as the last six years and a new file would be added to the box in fron
t of him.  It would contain
more
sheets of typed A4 paper and a group of graphic photos that would steal his bre
ath
,
each time he looked at them, which would not be often.

Suddenly very tired,
Richard
Turner
sighed deeply
.
H
e wanted John Hanson to know that this was a lost cause
.
A
trail that could only lead to misery, misery and heartache.
‘
Look
…
Mr
.
Hanson, I need to be straight with you.
We have been chasing this maniac for six years
.
Six
years without a shred of evidence, six years without a single eye witness,
and
six years without any lead of any substance.
’ 
Turner
shrugged his shoulders in resignation
, ‘
Y
our
friend is already dead, he
… h
e just doesn´t know it yet
.’

Chapter
F
our

13 February
-
0
9
:
50

(L
ife remaining 33 hrs 10 mins)

‘Oh how his couples screamed.’

Cupid placed t
he camcorder carefully into his
brief case.
He had made sure the battery was charged and the chip clean.
He only used chips once for each couple
,
and then
he
destroyed them
.
It
was a link, a lead
,
and he didn
’
t leave links,
and he
never left leads.
It was how he was able to evade detection and that was important
, because
it allo
wed him to continue his work
;
that was all that mattered.
He was angry that
most of
the press
hounds still hadn’
t recogni
s
ed why he did this
.  They hadn’
t
accepted
that the bonding of two people in love for eternity was the most
sacred
.
The
most poignant act of true love that could ever be achieved
,
and he, Cupid, gave that gift each year to one couple.
This year it was Tom and Karen
,
who would be
bound to each other for all time
,
the
ir
love sealed within the
ageless
time capsule of death.

Cupid
flipped open his mobile and hit speed dial one
.
His
breathing was slightly quicker than normal
.
The
anticipation of giving immortality to the love of Tom and Karen
excit
ed
him, creating a glow from
within
.

‘Adam
,
it’
s me
.
Is
everything ready
?
’

Anyone hearing Adam
Blac
k’s
voice for the first time would think him drunk
,
but that
wasn’
t the case
.
He
was just a little slow.
A car accident ten years earlier had caused a head injury that left the left hand side of his face looking as
if he had suffered a stroke
.
His
voice
was
corrupted
,
as if he had consumed a bottle of whisky.
Cupid had been driving the other car and whilst he was in no way to blame for the
collision,
he took on a responsibility for
Ada
m’s
recovery
,
placing him in a private hospital and covering all of his expenses throughout his period of healing.
Cupid was a wealthy man
,
so money was not a problem
,
and helping this man produced an employee
.
No, he was more like a
disciple, who would
walk through fire
,
if he as
ked him
.
He would
even
lay down his life to protect him and that was exactly what Adam had become
, h
is bodyguard
,
his protector.
  Not that Cupid needed much protection at six feet three inches
,
and weighing in at a muscular fourteen
stones.
He
was more than a match for most men.

Much of Adams physical recovery had been spent in the gym pumping iron
, his savior having introduced him to the discipline of training with weights.  The
head injury
Black had received made
him frighteningly single
-
minded, almost obsessed
,
as he gulped steroids and pushed weights.
The result was a man standing a little over six feet six inches tall, weighing in at a staggering three hundred and eight pounds with less than ten percent body fat.

‘Everything is ready Sir
,
’
drawled Adam,
‘j
ust
as you
like
it.’

‘You have my things?’

‘Yes, I will be taking them over in about half an hour.’

‘
And is our couple
… prepared?’

‘Yes Sir, they were prepared last evening.’

‘Good, call me when my things are all in place.’ 
Cupid flipped the mobile closed.
 
Striding over to his office
door,
he gently turned the lock
,
so as not to alert his secretary.
 
Returning to his bookcase
,
he
removed a large volume
entitled Surgical Procedures and placed it onto the
desktop
.
Reaching through the gap created
,
he pushed a hidden button.
There was a soft
,
barely audible click
as an entire section of the shelving unit moved forward just an inch on hidden hinges.  Pulling it gently towards him, so as not
to
disturb the books resting on the shelves, a section of
the
bookcase
swung open
approximately eighty centimet
r
es wide
,
like a door revealing a space behind
at
around a met
r
e deep.
 
Th
is was his private
sanctum;
this wa
s the epicent
r
e of his world.

Flipping a switch illuminated a void approximately three metres wide. Individual
spotlights
picked out a number of items
s
itting
on a narrow shelf
.
Each spot threw
a circular pool of light
onto
the shelf
,
givin
g it the feel of a museum as they
illuminated
three
items
, i
tems that sat waiting for
C
upid to visit and to enjoy
,
which he did each and every day
.

On
e was an open laptop computer
,
containing
a DVD that had recordings
on
it that were only viewed on this laptop and only by Cupid.  They were a testament to his mission, to
his calling to unite couples
.
They
showed in graphic sound and colour his previous six couplings.  The second item on the shelf
was a rolled up cloth
,
tied at its center with a thin cord attached
to the roll.  It contained some of his prized possessions.
The final item sat in t
he middle of the other two and as
always,
he
avoided looking at this until last of all, deliberately building the tension, increasing the anticipation
,
as he denied himself its
poetry.

Turning on the laptop
,
he waited, his mouth becoming dry
.
After
it had
loaded,
he quickly
found the file he wanted marked Valentine’s Day 2006.  As the screen burst into life
,
he caught his breath
,
as he watched the film he had shot back on that glor
ious day, the day of the coupling
of the couple he
had selected, selected
to reach immortality.  He always kept the sound low so his secretary did not hear the screaming, screaming that she would misinterpret as agony
.
She
would fail to understand, as most people would, the significance of the agonised
sounds;
fail to understand the true meaning as he did.  His breathing became
shallow as he watched
the images
,
catching the magnificence, the relevance of what he had created
, and they
surged
through him like a drug.  He had achieved
this;
he had given this gift to this couple
and
to the world.  Five more short films were watched, five more couples were immortalised for eternity.  Shutting down the
laptop,
he laid his hand onto the keyboard
.
Soon
there would be a seventh
film;
soon another celebration of eternal love
would
join the others
.  Closing his
eyes,
he breathed deeply
,
imagining how Tom and Karen would look as they stared up with thanks from this screen, how they would endorse the strength of their love through their screams reflecting their appreciation for the opportunit
y he would give them.  Clearing his
mind,
he turned to the next
item,
avoiding looking at the centre object, wanting to drink that in last, to savour it.  H
e stroked
the cloth roll
with reverence
as
his heart rate steadily
r
ose,
thinking
of six previous
Valentine’s
evenings, six prev
ious couples bonded by
love for all time
,
thanks to him, thanks to what he was prepared to do for them.
Easing open the
kno
t,
he unrolled the cloth exposing a set of six surgical number seven scalpels.
Scalpels came in two types in general, disp
osable and reusable.  Cupid preferred
reusable,
the blade being exchangeable
.
The
type
C
upid like
d
to use
was
made from
diamonds.
Each of his couples had a new set of blades
and after each
joining,
the handles
were
scrubbed and steamed to remove all traces of the previous couple
that
they had helped to reach immortality.
Each cut, each incision that raised screams that most would think were of pain
,
left no lasting trace on the wonderful implements.
Cupid knew the screams were a reflection of the depth of love the couple felt for each other, the louder the
scream
s,
the deeper the love
.
Oh,
how his couples screamed and
wailed
.
Yes,
he had picked well, p
icked couples so in love.