Duplicity Read online

  With all of these things running through my mind, it just confirmed my notion that I best leave the police out of this for now. I snapped some photos on my cell of the box, the foot and the note as I may need them later, and dropped the package into a small outhouse at the back of my building before leaving for the barn, as the outhouse was the only place I could think of that was out of sight, yet cold enough to store a foot for a day or two without it starting to smell too badly and attract unwanted attention. You never consider these things in everyday life, but a foot is unexpectedly heavy.

  I paused before getting into my car, what the hell was I doing? I should have been calling the police. No…I was doing this tonight; I needed this thing nipped in the bud as soon as possible, I had a huge murder case coming up next week and needed to be fully focused on it.

  Chapter 3

  I pulled up to a set of wooden gates with a rusty old sign that read ‘Belle View Farm’ just as darkness was beginning to fall. Memory reminded me that I had made better plans in my time, but never the less, whoever had it in for me, had it in for me bad and I wanted it resolved. I suspected it would be the same person who tipped the police off to the murder evidence, but my notions at this point were futile. I just needed to look around, see if there was anything suspicious, and get out. Just five minutes of my life, how scary could it really be?

  The place looked abandoned, decrepit. Even the little farmhouse that stood down the dirt path showed no signs of life or light. The gates were locked. So I clambered over the fence, still wearing my Armani suit. My life had taken a sudden turn, and everything seemed really strange.

  I walked first past a barn on my left, with two little out house attached. The door to the barn was simply a gaping hole and the wind howled through it, shaking the tin sheet roof as it did. I decided I would explore here first, for no other reason than it was the first building I came to.

  Being in a rush I had forgotten to bring a torch with me, and the inside of the barn was dark, echoic and menacing. I squinted trying to make sense of the black shapes that seemed to curl in on me. I pulled my cell from my pocket to use as a source of light. I shined it around the walls looking for something, anything really. Just to my left I could make out a switch on the wall. With a sigh of relief I flicked it into the on position and the rumble of a generator whirring into action at the other end of that barn startled me. With a few flashes, 6 sparsely spread bulbs came to life, dimly illuminating the place.

  I began to look around the old barn. My stomach doing flips as I did, it wasn’t completely terrifying, it brought with it a sort of comfort as it reminded me of a place I used to play as a child, back before my mother passed.

  I never spoke much about my mother; no one had ever really cared enough to listen, perhaps that was because I had never let anyone get close enough. In all honesty, I cannot remember all that much about her, which is a terrible thing to admit. I remember small things, the smell of her perfume, how she would kiss me in the mornings, and the way her hair tickled my neck when she hugged me, but other than a few other memories, the rest was a bit of a blur. I can’t even remember why she died. Perhaps on some subconscious level I had chosen to forget as the memory of losing her would be too painful. I never really bought into the whole life after death thing. I was a practical man with a logical way of thinking, like most men, but if there was some truth in it, even a small glimpse of truth, then it was times like this I would most want my mother around me.

  I continued to look round the barn, my fears soothed by the remote possibility of my mother’s presence. I could see nothing untoward. The barn was eerie yes, but it was just a barn. I let out a sigh of relief as I walked through the building and toward the conjoined outhouses. I considered at this point that it would have been sensible to bring someone with me, or at least let someone know where I was going, but did I really want to drag someone else into this weird game?

  The outhouses must have been used as some kind of abattoir at some point, there were very old blood stains on the cement floor and a table of menacing looking tools placed neatly on the top. ‘A very organized butcher’, I thought to myself.

  I peered around the shelving that adorned the walls of the outhouses, they appeared to be laden with jars. I walked over towards the jars, squinting at them trying to see what was inside as the shadows masked their gory content. I physically stepped back when I realized that the contents of the mysterious jars were eyeballs. That sick feeling was coming back as I leaned forward clutching my stomach, trying desperately to prevent myself from vomiting. I ran towards the exit of the outhouse, clearly wanting to spend as little time as possible in there with what appeared to be HUMAN eyeballs.

  The walls became artworks of colourful dots, the results of my plummeting blood pressure as I passed through the outhouse and headed towards the door. In a huge pile near my exit lay a stack of flattened boxes. When I looked closer I realized the boxes were the same as the one my ‘gift’ had arrived in. ‘He’s definitely been here then.’ I thought to myself. I wondered if he used it as some kind of sick torture chamber for his victims.

  I sat down on the grass outside of the outhouse, leaning against its less than stable frame and tilting my head back for fear I would pass out if I didn’t. The wind blowing against my face cooled me down and soothed my mind a little. I sat for a few moments but knew I needed to get moving if I ever wanted to get home. The twilight had already turned to full blown darkness and made my task all the more uncomfortable.

  Stepping back onto the dirt track gave me some comfort, it was the path that led back to my car, however, I soon found my curious mind wandering to that derelict cottage, after a tug of war between my senses and my mind as to whether to take a look or return to my car. My curiosity got the better of me. It always did. Being inquisitive is a good trait for a lawyer, not so good for someone who has a mad man on their tail!

  I walked down the path, and flinched with a sudden sharp pain in my calf. I’d almost forgotten about that, I guess my coffee and painkillers were wearing off. When I reached the door, I could see it had been forced open. ‘God, if I die tonight, make sure my bastard of a father doesn’t get my Porsche!’ I thought to myself, taking a deep breath as I pushed open the creaky old door. He probably would, he was my only living relative, but I would prefer Sam used it as a taxi rather than that asshole get hold of it. He had done nothing for me, why should he benefit from my death? It occurred to me I was taking the prospect of my death far too seriously.

  The door led straight into the kitchen. I put the torch function on my cell phone again to get a closer look. The kitchen was exactly what you would expect in a farmhouse, a pine table and chairs, dresser full of knick knacks and tea cups and an open fire. All of the ornamental items were covered in cobwebs, it was clear they had not been disturbed for some time, with one exception, the fire. The fire had glowing embers. ‘Someone has been here recently. Most likely in the last 24 hours’, I thought to myself. At this point my mind was screaming for me to turn and run, but my feet would not follow the command. I pushed forward toward the living area into the next room.

  Then I saw it, there was another box that sat in the middle of the floor, taunting me. Identical to the previous box. This is what I had been sent here to find. I did not want to open it, but the curiosity got the better of me again. Slowly I removed the lid, revealing 5 human fingers. Each nail delicately painted with ornate flowers. The vomit I had become all too familiar with of late began to rise up again, but I swallowed hard and the feeling disappeared. Perhaps I was becoming accustomed to the gore and depravity of this weirdo.

  I noticed a small envelope paper clipped to the box. I unclipped it and tore open the envelope leaving rugged edges which was very out of character for me.

  I pulled out the note which was immaculately folded; this guy could have been my brother! The crisp seam of the fold was rather difficult to smooth out, and so the paper remained a little bent while I read it.

 
You better hurry; time is running out for her.

  I want you to discover the truth…

  The note was a little unnerving I must admit, but there was something else inside the envelope. The top half emerged from the envelope first as I pulled at it. It was some kind of flyer, I recognized the logo from a long time ago.

  St Anne’s Boarding School for Boys.

  My boarding school, I knew I recognized the branding. ‘Very strange’ I thought to myself. I felt further away from the answer rather than closer at this point. What on earth could my old boarding school have to do with all of this? I needed to get moving, I had seen enough. I wasn’t sure whether to leave the box or take it with me, but I figured one body part on my property was enough, so I left the box were it was and took the note and flyer with me.

  The school where I grew up was a five and a half hour drive away, and in all honesty, it wasn’t a place I wanted to revisit. I did not have the fondest memories of my childhood, but against my better judgement I decided to make the journey; if I left now I could be there by the early hours of morning.

  I called my secretary to reschedule all of my appointments for the following day, and off I went on a journey I never dreamed I would have to make. The journey to my past.

  Chapter 4

  The long drive was tiring, but I was used to the all familiar feeling of unrest. On top of this the adrenaline I felt was unnerving but almost exciting.

  I pondered to myself my unnatural reaction to the dangerous situation I was facing. Was I abnormal? Some people get their kicks from sky diving or base jumping. Maybe this was just my kick. A sense of urgency dawned upon me and I pressed my foot to the floor. The engine roared into action, zipping down the road toward my childhood.

  I reached the gates of the school around 2.30am. Those gates were the ones I would stare through any chance I got, hoping my father would come and get me. He never did. I resented him for dumping me there. In all honesty, it probably wasn’t his fault, as after my mother passed away he set about replacing her with a much younger model. This turned out to be a very poor idea, for the lady in question was the stereotypical evil stepmother, and after a while she grew bored of me, stealing my father’s money before running off in the middle of the night. We never heard from her again. An all too familiar story.

  Dad took it badly; he truly loved her and her betrayal cut him deep, something which he later took out on me. He turned to drugs and alcohol for the comfort he craved. It never fulfilled him. So he blamed me for pushing her away, often beating me and torturing me in a mental capacity. Love is something that a child should never be deprived of.

  He sent me to boarding school so he “didn’t have to look at me anymore.” My childhood from there took a turn for the worse. Dad never visited me, and despite the way he had treated me, I still desperately sought his approval. I had no confidence and the other kids would taunt me and bully me because I was an easy target.

  My confidence and charisma grew from a need to survive. It was like a light switch just flicked on in my mind one day and I became someone else. Someone strong, someone confident, someone who would take shit from no one! When this “new me” began to manifest itself, it began as anger. I felt like the world owed me something and I would act out at school. It wasn’t until I learned to channel this power into being a better person that my life became my own.

  I know now that the reason I love women so much is because like my dad and his drugs, I am just looking to replace the feeling of being loved and wanted. It took me three years in therapy and a hell of a lot of good old American dollars to work that one out by the way! But none of the women really did that to me, they brought the kind of comfort you could buy, for one night only, but I had never met someone who made each day feel as though it was worth living. My only real love was my work, which was very sad, but at least I knew that.

  I had five hours to kill before I could go into the school, so I sat in my car pondering the memories I had had there, some good, some bad. I had excelled in my education and was granted a scholarship straight out of high school into a prestigious law school. I never asked my father for a thing. I was lucky if he gave me a Christmas card there was no way I was going to owe my education to him.

  I thought that if I laid my head back in the seat that I may doze off for a while, alas this was not the case. My thoughts jumped from one scenario to the next trying to figure out this maze I had inadvertently found myself in the middle of.

  Before I knew it, minutes turned into hours and daylight had unexpectedly sprung upon me. A young boy startled me knocking on my car window.

  “Can I help you? Are you waiting to see the head sir?” he asked. His polite manner was impressive for a boy of no more than nine years old. I wondered if I had portrayed manners like that at his age. St Anne’s was a good school. There was no doubt about it, my beef was not with the school, but with the fact I had been left there against my own will.

  “Yes, please erm… Mrs Stephenson, is she still here?” I queried. It was a long shot, Mrs Stephenson must have been in her late fifties when I was there, and I imagined she had long retired by now.

  “Follow me.” He said smiling. I was impressed again. Mrs Stephenson must have been archaic by now, and she was still dedicating her life to these boys.

  We walked toward the school; it hadn’t changed in the slightest. I looked up at the window above the door which used to be my room. Wondering which boy now had that window as their place to daydream.

  The boy instructed me to take a seat outside of the office while he announced my arrival to Mrs Stephenson. I wondered what she would look like after all these years. Sitting there on that green leather seat outside the office brought some sort of familiar comfort. My feet began to twitch with anticipation.

  “Come in dear.” I heard in the tone of an aged woman. I stood up from my seat. I braced myself to enter the room, dusting the creases from my pants as I walked toward the door. After all these years I still wanted to make a good impression on her.

  Mrs Stephenson was the only person I had ever been able to rely on, other than myself of course, and had I not had such an issue with intimacy, she is probably someone I would have stayed in touch with.

  She stood in front of me, her kind eyes smiling at me, and her actual smile a little gappy! She really was one of earth’s angels. Sure she could be strict if she needed to be, but she made me what I am today. She got me through the issues with my father and encouraged me to be the best I could be. I owed a lot to her. Suddenly, a guilt came over me that I had come empty handed. Flowers would have been an appropriate gesture, I stood staring at her, unsure how to act after such a long absence from each other.

  “Come and sit down, my boy.” She soothed. I did as I was told, but only after giving her a kiss on the forehead. I towered above this once fierce woman who was now a paling version of her younger self.

  “So what can I do for you.” She asked, looking at me from over the top of her glasses.

  “I am sorry to arrive unannounced, and well, so early in the morning.” My voice started to trail off as I felt myself welling up a little bit. The emotion of being there, seeing her, was almost too much to handle. The sleep deprivation I was suffering from probably didn’t help matters much, either.

  “I would like to see my file, if I could.” I continued.

  Mrs Stephenson did not speak a word, just nodded her head in agreement as she got up and went to her filing cabinet. She pulled out the long metal drawer that seemed to go back an eternity and went right to the back, pulling out an old brown cardboard file with my name neatly printed in black ink on the front and slid it over the desk to me.

  “Normally records of this age are put in the archives, however, I had a feeling you may come someday asking to see this. So I kept it here.” I had not realized it in my youth but Mrs Stephenson was one of the wisest people I had ever had the privilege of knowing. I found myself wishing I had written down every piece of advice she ha
d ever given me.

  I stood up, from the desk and gave her a thankful look. She knew my gratitude was beyond anything I could convey through words. It was a thank you for all those years of wiping tears and cleaning knees, for encouraging me to succeed and for consoling me when I was the only child left there for Christmas. She was and still to this day, is the only person who had ever seen my sensitive side.

  I walked out the office, clutching the file to my chest. I took note of everything around me as I walked back to my car. The old green crispy paint hanging from the ceiling, the heavy wooden front door with the bronze door knob, the mahogany benches that aligned the halls, and the wrought iron gates, covered in the crunchy autumn leaves that had fallen from the old oak tree above it. I had a feeling this would be the last time I would see that place, or Mrs Stephenson and a tear came to my eye as I hopped into my car to depart for the final time.

  Chapter 5

  I reached home at around 2:30pm and immediately sat down at my kitchen table and plonked the file in front of me. I rested my head on my hands as I contemplated what could be inside. What mysteries my past would hold that had such an effect on my present.