The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,90
at all. It sounded more like the chatter of monkeys or birds. He was about to fall asleep when he heard the music start. The music from War of the Worlds. At first he thought that too was in his head, breaking through the wall of static, but no: it was definitely coming from downstairs.
He got out of bed and got dressed. He went outside and spent the night in his car.
‘Come on, sweetheart.’
He opened Kirsty’s door and offered her his hand.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ she said.
‘I know. I was just–’
‘Yes yes. I know.’
As they walked up the path she kept to the left, warily eyeing the patch where she had slipped. They got inside and Jamie offered her a cup of tea. She looked at the door of the nursery. It was firmly closed.
‘I’m going to bed.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Whatever.’
Jamie lay beside her, listening to her crying. He felt so useless and helpless. His emotions swung between grief, hatred, misery, guilt and anger. His whole body felt weak, atrophied. His heart was dead. The funeral service had been the worst experience of his life. Kirsty sobbed throughout. Jamie had stood there feeling sick, useless, wishing he had a shell he could withdraw into. Their daughter, who now had a name: Lily. Jamie tried not to think of her as a living baby, a toddler, a little girl. He tried not to think about her wearing dresses with ribbons, sitting on his lap, laughing, cuddling him and calling him daddy.
He couldn’t bear the painful feelings of love so he smothered them with hatred.
He couldn’t believe he had been so fucking stupid. Why had he trusted Chris? What had made him believe that they could be friends, or even just friendly? Chris and Lucy were sick, warped, evil. Words ran through his head – words he’d heard in films and read in newspapers to describe psychopaths and criminals; serial killers; Third World tyrants; people who tortured animals; fascists; rapists; teenagers who walked into schools with guns and mowed down their classmates and teachers.
Words like that were bandied around so frequently, they had almost lost their meaning. Now he understood the impact that evil can have on ordinary lives. There was no point trying to figure out why. (Did they have unfortunate childhoods? Had something happened in their past to make them like this? Was it inherent in their nature?) It wasn’t a question of why. It was a question of what:
What are you going to do about it?
He lay awake all night. By the time the sun had risen he had made up his mind.
Mike was standing by the photocopier talking to a blonde girl called Karen. Jamie went straight up to him and said, ‘I want your friends to help me.’
Karen gave them both a strange look. She remembered suddenly what had happened to Jamie’s wife – the sad news was all round the office – and she quickly made her excuses and left them alone.
Mike took Jamie by the elbow and turned him towards the wall so their voices wouldn’t carry.
‘What?’
Jamie looked him in the eye. ‘You know what I’m talking about. I need your friends to help me sort out my neighbours. I want them hurt. Badly. I want them scared. So scared that they’ll move out.’
‘Jamie, are you sure?’
‘Yes. I’m certain.’ He leaned forward until his nose almost touched his colleague’s. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘They killed my baby.’
Mike pulled back. ‘I thought it was just a fall, an accident?’
Jamie shook his head vigorously. His eyes were wide, unblinking. ‘I want you to help me.’
Mike studied him. ‘OK. If it’s what you really want. I have to say, I don’t blame you. If it wasn’t an accident. I’ll give my friends a call this evening and make sure they’re up for it.’
‘Tell them I’ll pay them.’
Mike put his hand on Jamie’s arm. He spoke quietly. ‘Look, I told you, they owe me a favour. I’ll give them a call later, then, if they’re able to do it, you can give me all the details when I next see you. I’ll need the address, descriptions, plus details of what you want done to them.’
‘I want them hurt.’
‘Yes, yes – but they might be able to tailor it to your requirements, if you see what I mean.’
Jamie nodded. ‘That would be good.’
Mike smiled. ‘Now, if I were you I’d go and get a cup of tea. Or go home. You look wrecked, mate.’