The Killing Hour

‘What’s the hurry?’


‘You’ll learn soon enough,’ he says, glancing into the mirror and seeing that the bitch is close behind them. ‘We’ll all learn soon enough.’





33


What’s a night without two homicidal maniacs? A boring night, that’s what. So right now I am, as they say, pretty fucking far from bored.

I don’t remember Cyris sounding this crazy but that could be because we didn’t talk much when we first met. The only thing I can think to do is crash the car into something solid in the hope Jo can get away, but that plan has a huge drawback – she will come to help. Cyris might still be alive and I might not. Who will protect her then?

Who’s protected her so far?

‘What do you want?’ I strain to keep my voice controlled.

‘Shut up and drive.’

The wipers roam across the windscreen, smearing the rain from side to side. I shut up and drive. No point in arguing. I try to think of a way I can signal Jo – Morse code with the brake lights or something.

‘The box, what’s in the box? You saw the box? It was a present. I hope you liked it.’

‘How’s the stomach?’ I ask.

‘Whose stomach?’ he asks.

‘Your stomach.’

‘I’ll live.’

‘That’s a real shame.’

He pushes the gun into my ribs. ‘Why don’t you concentrate on driving.’

I do just that, again following the orders of the man with the gun. Common practice. And I’ve been practising a lot. When I flick the headlights to high beam the rain looks thicker. There’s no other traffic on this road in the middle of nowhere. I feel like taking my hands off the wheel and seeing where fate steers my car. I’ve had enough. Enough guilt. Enough pain. Enough of people dying around me. I’ve become a catalyst for death and I don’t like it.

The duffel bag has cooled down so I dump it onto the passenger floor. Cyris doesn’t mention it. The heater is combining with my rage to warm me up. I’m picking it might be like drinking alcohol when you’re suffering from hypothermia. You feel warmer, but you’re not. Your body’s fooling you. And you die. End of story.

Is this to be my story?

The rain begins to ease off. I slow the windscreen wipers so that every second they sweep across and show me the dark night ahead. I watch the road and concentrate on driving over the wet asphalt. My knuckles are sore from squeezing the steering wheel. My fingers are white. Slowly I unclench them. The joints pop.

‘You look tense, partner.’

Yeah, that’s right.



‘Money, Feldman, how much of it do you have?’

This question surprises me. I think about it. ‘I’m not sure. It’s all wet, anyway.’

‘Wet? Wet, how? How did … no, no, no, not the money in your pockets, the money in your bank. How many dollars do you have?’

‘Nothing.’

He pushes the gun in harder. I glance at him in the mirror. He’s blinking rapidly. ‘That’s a lie. You’re lying, lying, and lying people catch on fire. I know you have money. I’ve seen your house, I looked at your money statements.’

‘I’m a schoolteacher, not a doctor. I have a mortgage. Do you know what that means?’

‘I know you’re a teacher, I know this, I know, and I’m not a moron.’

‘The bank owns my house, not me.’

He draws the gun back, then pushes it in harder still.

I jerk away. The car swerves across the road. I tug at the wheel, change down a couple of gears and the car swerves right, then straightens. My reactions defy my thoughts of crashing.

‘How much you got?’ Cyris asks as if nothing just happened. I glance into the rear-view mirror. Jo is still behind us but much further back now. Can money get us out of this?

‘Not much.’

‘You owe me forty grand.’

‘What?’

‘I could do with some money, partner. Forty grand sounds pretty sweet.’

Forty grand. I have a strong feeling why he picked that amount. ‘Get a job.’



‘I have a job.’

Things that didn’t make sense on Monday are making some sense now. Things seem clearer since I talked to Landry. One of the world’s biggest motives to kill, after revenge, is money. That’s exactly what Cyris is asking for now. So I know he likes money. Wants money. Was that his goal on Monday? Was he being paid?

I think about the unnecessary violence. I think about why he killed both Luciana and Kathy. It’s just as I told Landry – to kill one woman would make the police look at obvious reasons, then obvious suspects. To kill them both in a horrific and brutal way makes the entire thing look ritualistic. It makes it look like she died for an entirely different set of reasons. Like some random madman dragged them both from their homes and committed madman atrocities on them.