The Laughterhouse A Thriller

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

The father is awake. The police are going to be here soon. He considered not letting the police know, and only calling the media. He didn’t need the cops here—but ultimately he decided they wouldn’t be able to stop what was happening. They are coming into a situation they know nothing about, and they’ll have to be cautious. Their inclusion won’t be a problem—if anything it’ll just confirm Stanton’s fate.

Caleb leans over and removes Stanton’s gag. “I enjoyed killing your daughters,” he says.

“You’re an animal,” Stanton says. He’s crying and his face is red.

“Get up.”

“What?”

“I said get up. We’re going for a walk.”

“F*ck you. F*ck you, you . . . you . . .”

“Animal. You said already. You want me to kill you in front of your last remaining daughter?”

“I said ‘f*ck you.’ ”

Caleb likes it. Stanton is getting braver. He’s angry. “Unless you get up I’m going to strip Katy naked and put photographs of her naked body all over the Internet.”

Stanton gets to his knees. “I’ll kill you,” he says. “I’ll f*cking kill you.”

Caleb nods. “If I don’t kill you, Doctor, will you stand up at my trial and tell the good people of the jury that none of this was my fault? That I’m just a man who snapped?”

“You’re insane,” Stanton says.

“Good.” He reaches down and grabs a handful of Stanton’s hair and starts to pull. “Now get up.”

He leads Stanton out to the living room, past the bedroom with Katy who is still asleep. He switches on the lights. He holds the knife tightly in his hand and he waits, standing behind Stanton with the knife against his neck.

“What are you waiting for?” Stanton asks.

“Shut up,” Caleb says.

He only has to wait a minute until the cars start arriving.

“Move,” he says, and he pushes Stanton toward the door. Stanton stumbles, but he moves, reaches it, and stops. He turns them both around so his own back is to the door and Stanton is facing the hallway.

“Now what?” Stanton asks.

“Now it’s time to beg for your life,” he says, and he cuts through the binds on Stanton’s wrists.

The doctor immediately brings his arms in front of him and starts rubbing them. “I’m going to kill you, and then your other daughter,” Caleb says. “Now turn around.”

Stanton turns around. There are a few feet between them, nothing more. Cole steps toward him, and as he does, he drops the knife. It thuds onto the carpet maybe a little closer to Stanton than to him.

Both men pause as they stare at each other. Caleb waits for Stanton to react. And then he does, swooping toward the knife. Caleb reaches out and kicks it, it goes behind Stanton and further down the hallway. Stanton goes after it. Caleb smiles. He reaches behind for the door handle and opens the door. It’s all perfect. Just perfect.

Stanton gets the knife and points it at him. “I’m going to kill you,” he says triumphantly, shaking his head. “I’m going to f*cking slice you apart.”

Caleb steps through the doorway. He steps onto the porch and faces the street. There are two vans, and standing in front of them are people with cameras. He raises his arms in the air, palms facing front, hands well away from his body. On the footpath coming toward him is the detective and Tate. He keeps his back to Stanton and he waits, he waits for the f*cker to stab him, he waits for the death that comes with it, and in front of the cops, in front of the media, Dr. Nicholas Stanton is going to kill an unarmed man. He’s going to kill a man who he thinks killed his daughters. He’s going to have to answer for that, and there’s going to be a trial. He’ll be found guilty, the same way Caleb was guilty fifteen years ago. And then he’s going to go to jail and he’s going to get beaten and raped and he’s going to get his fingers broken over and over by those same a*sholes with the aversion to symmetry, and then Nicholas Stanton is finally going to know what it’s like to walk in Caleb Cole’s shoes.