The Lover's Children

Chapter 103 – Summer’s Inferno – Part 13

MICHAEL

As Lily pirouettes and performs, Danny nudges me. “This is Lily’s last turn. She’ll be wrapping up

soon.”

“What then?”

“She’ll go home, I suppose.”

“Cab?”

“No, she walks.”

“Walks? Three in the morning with a serial killer on the loose, and she walks?”

Danny shrugs. “Cabs are expensive. None of us makes a lot doing this.” Then, defensively, “She

doesn’t walk alone. She and Ginny go together.”

I jerk my chin back toward Lily’s watcher. “And what’s his pattern when she’s done?”

“He usually drinks up and leaves just after Lily finishes.” Leaning back against the bar, surreptitiously, I

catch Klempner’s eye, but tap into my phone messenger.

Danny glances in. “What are you doing?”

“Calling a cab.” But I drop her a wink, sliding eyes toward Klempner.

Lily finishes next few minutes. Danny says Hoodie leaves soon after. Lily walks home with another girl

Across the room, Klempner looks down to his cupped hand, looks up at me, then taps in.

A moment later my screen flashes a reply.

goin outside. poss follow. u stay here. keep phone handy

will do

“Um… Michael, listen…” Danny picks at a thumbnail. “I walk home too. After you’re done here, would

you walk with me tonight? With everything going on, I’m… I’m kind of nervous.” She gives me a weak

smile. “If I’m with you, no one’s going to bother me.”

Images of Charlotte flash briefly through my head. “My wife wouldn’t li…”

She touches my hand. “All I’m asking is you walk me to my door. I promise you, my intentions are

strictly honourable.”

Lily?

She’s the one with the stalker…

Klempner’s on her case…

“In that case, I’ll walk you to your door and see you inside. Okay?”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

*****

KLEMPNER

As I slip out, Michael’s still talking to Danny. Out in the lobby, the compere’s voice vibes through. “A

round of applause please for Lily!” Half-hearted clapping follows, swallowed by the night as I stroll out.

I keep it casual, for the benefit of anyone who should notice me, but inside the adrenaline’s beginning

to pump and I’m struggling not to smile. It’s Him. I’m sure it’s Him.

*****

Three in the morning - the wee small hours. Here, at the height of the year, dawn is only an hour or so

away. It should be the cool of the night. Instead, away from the air-con, the night is airless with heat.

Oppressive, almost suffocating. In under a minute, sweat streaks from my face and neck and

shoulders.

Trying to ignore it, I consider my options…

The next building along, a warehouse, or garage perhaps, faces the street with a gloomy nook of an

entrance. Letting the shadow swallow me, I survey the area.

The streets are almost deserted. An occasional delivery van. An even more occasional car.

If I were stalking some woman, where would I…?

It’s painfully obvious. Indeed, Danny mentioned it.

All is in darkness save for a cafe across the road. Brightly lit, a waitress wipes over the counter then,

responding to a raised hand, takes a jug from the hotplate. The scent of coffee and toast reminds me

that I’ve had nothing for hours but a couple of beers.

My stomach growls and temptation tugs at me, but before I have time to react, the club door swings

open again and as I reverse into my shadow, Hoodie emerges, the hood once more drawn up.

Crossing the street to the cafe, five minutes later, he’s sitting at a window table, a mug and a plate of

something set in front of him.

And, as Danny said, he’s watching the club entrance. Not obviously. No one looking casually would

notice. But from my dim shelter, with time to watch, I see it. Between sips from the mug and bites from

the plate, he keeps the Sapphire Club under surveillance.

I watch.

And I wait.

Should I call the police?

Alert Stanton?

But the hard fact is, I’ve not a shred of actual evidence against this man.

So far…

It would be impossible to prove that ‘Pat’ has sinister intentions when he’s simply attending a public

venue to watch a legal show, and then stopping off for a bite to eat and a coffee before bed.

Everything hangs on what he does next.

While I wait, I entertain myself snapping him with my phone camera. I got a few of him at the bar, but

the dim general lighting of the club combined with the kaleidoscopic strobes and glitter balls, pretty

much screwed the image quality. Here, although at a distance and with that damn hood up again, he’s

under fluorescent strips, unsubtle but bright.

Snatching for the moments when he turns front on, his face is properly exposed, I get some half-decent

shots. Then, cupping my hand around the bright screen, zoom into my collection of images for a close-

up and my first really good look at him.

As the girl said, an ordinary face. So ordinary, no one’s going to look twice. But something about him

freaks out everyone who meets him.

Pondering that, I switch off the screen before anyone notices…

No one’s going to look twice…

And yet…

Flicking the screen on again, I look again.

Do I know you?

*****

Single men entered the club. Several exit with a woman. One couple stagger off down the street,

speech slurring, not looking as though either will be much use to the other. Another leaves

straightening his tie. Perhaps there are rooms upstairs.

Why’s she taking so long?

Lily finished her act some while ago. She’s had plenty of time to get changed and…

Ahhh…

There she is…

She emerges onto the street, accompanied by another girl, fair-haired, or so it seems in the strange

lighting provided by the fluorescent signage. High heels and performance wear have been exchanged

for her original jeans and tee-shirt. In the sultry air, even the tee-shirts are warm wear.

Lily looks up the street and down, then across to the cafe window before, arm in arm, the pair set off

together at a brisk clip.

Not completely lost to reason then…

At his table, Hoodie raises a hand to the waitress then, mug to his lips, watches over the top as the two

women retreat into the distance. As the waitress brings the check, he tosses a handful of change on

the tabletop, then exits onto the street as the pair round the corner by the cinema.

He saunters along, no great urgency to his stride…

Not worried about losing them…

Knows where he’s going?

Done this before…

Waiting until Hoodie also is about to disappear from view, I launch myself from my doorway, sprinting to

follow until I hear the clip of leather on stone. As I clear the corner, I have him again, although I don’t

see Marty and her companion. Dropping to a more measured pace, I pad along behind.

It’s not a long walk, maybe a mile. Perhaps not that far. I’d like to get close enough to see the women,

but it’s too risky. No matter. My quarry can see them. And I can see him.

Hoodie stops, slipping behind a gatepost, watching ahead.

After a few seconds, voices echo, carried through air like syrup. “Night, Ginny.”

“Night, Lily. Sleep tight.”

“You too.”

A door clicks closed, the quiet sound carrying. Another click follows, accompanied by the clack of bolts

drawn into place. As I watch, Hoodie steps out from his gateway again, hands tucked into pockets.

After a few moments he sets off walking again.

What was that about?

Clearly, he already knew where Lily lives.

Hoping to catch her alone perhaps?

Even if Hoodie isn’t the Surgeon, there’s only so many reasons that men follow women to their homes

at night.

What to do next?

I’d like to stay, talk to the woman…

On the other hand…

No immediate threat to her…

And I don’t want to lose Hoodie.

Padding quietly behind my target, I’m about to call Michael, when the retreating echo of footsteps

reminds me how the sound is carrying. Instead, I tap into my mapping app and attach a message.

location attached. get ur ass here pronto. hoodie followed women. i’m on him now. get woman out of

here

In a matter of seconds, a reply Bings in.

Ahead of me, the footsteps falter and pause. Hastily I mute the phone and check the message.

on my way. go catch this bastard. i’ll call police

no police yet. all I got is circumstantial. no proof is surgeon. dont want scare him off

proof? he followed her home

stalking gets him a restraining order not lock up. need to be sure if he’s surgeon

Ahead of me, the steady clip of footsteps resumes. Picking up my pace, I follow.

*****

He walks steadily. Not the strolling amble of taking the air, but the unvarying march of someone with a

destination in mind… Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

A home?

Some house or apartment?

But he walks… And keeps walking…

And I follow.

The dwellings I pass become more upmarket. Instead of shabby brick-builts converted to apartments,

these look like the homes of the middle-classes. Neatly trimmed lawns and flower borders frame the

kind of properties where you would expect to find lawyers, doctors and teachers.

And still we walk.

Where the hell’s he going?

After nearly an hour, we pass beyond the residential areas, back into the commercial district. Streets

become highways, lined by cash-and-carries, glass-plated car showrooms and furniture warehouses.

A workplace perhaps?

The pattern suggested shift work…

My mapping app is tracking the route. Even so, I’m not too sure where I am.

Large, modern, multi-windowed buildings lie ahead of me, nagging at my brain. I feel I should know

where I am. It seems both familiar and unfamiliar. I’d like to check the app, but I don’t want to risk losing

Hoodie through a moment’s inattention.

Abruptly, he makes a left off the sidewalk, vanishing from sight. Cursing, I sprint to catch up, skidding to

a halt at his turnoff.

It’s a parking lot. City Central Hospital. Public Parking

Of course the building seemed familiar. I didn’t recognise it at first because, on my visits to see Borje, I

came in from the rear entrance. Apparently, it’s considered politic to keep the morgue and the forensic

labs away from obvious public scrutiny. Then again, on my first visit here, on my return from Brazil, on

a dash for the maternity ward where Mitch was in labour, my mind was on other things.

The parking lot is huge. Hundreds of cars, vans and other vehicles jam the space. Revolving left, then

right, then back again, I don’t see Hoodie. He could be almost anywhere out of my line of sight, behind

any high-sided vehicle.

Signs point every-which-way. Emergency Department. Cardiology. Intensive care unit. Neurology.

Oncology. Pathology. Outpatients…

So many different ways to be sick…

You’d think the human race’d be dropping like nine-pins…

Amazing they fuckin’ survive at all…

Shaking my head, I dismiss the thought. I still can’t see him.

Fuck!

Setting off at a dogtrot, I weave my way though the parked vehicles, all the while scanning for…

There!

Once more, the rear view of Hoodie disappearing into the main entrance. Stepping up from my trot to a

dash, I reach plate glass doors which swish open, admitting me to a large central reception area.