Dominion of Darkness: (Parish & Richards #19)
Tim Ellis
Dominion of Darkness
(Parish & Richards #19)
Tim Ellis
Previously:
A Life for a Life
The Wages of Sin
The Flesh is Weak
The Shadow of Death
His Wrath is Come
The Breath of Life
The Dead Know Not
Be Not Afraid
The House of Mourning
Through a Glass Darkly
A Lamb to the Slaughter
Silent in the Grave
In the Twinkling of an Eye
A Time to Kill
Deceit is in the Heart
The Fragments That Remain
The Kisses of an Enemy
Evidence of Things Not Seen
Dominion of Darkness
Coming later in 2016:
There is no Fear in Love
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Kindle Edition
Copyright 2016 Timothy Stephen Ellis
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Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Books written by Tim Ellis can be obtained either through the author’s official website: http://timellis.weebly.com/ at Smashwords.com or through online book retailers.
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To Pam, with love as always
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A big thank you to proofreader James Godber
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He has delivered us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of his beloved Son.
(Colossians 1:13)
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Chapter One
Friday, February 19
‘Yes, come in,’ he said to the young woman when he opened the door to her hesitant tap.
The weather outside resembled winter in Siberia. As she stepped inside, a gust of icy wind entered as well.
He’d been expecting her.
She had long black hair past her shoulders, white alabaster skin, high cheekbones and ruby-red lips. She really was very beautiful. Her name was Hayley Kingdom, she was twenty-six and had come to his house to die.
They’d been in contact through a chat room on the Dark Net for nearly six weeks and formed a bond.
‘It’s so cold outside, Winston,’ she said.
‘I think it’s something to do with the weather,’ he joked, in an effort to put her at ease.
She let out a small laugh, but it was brief and humourless.
He held out his hands for her coat. ‘They’re saying it’s been the coldest February since records began. The Russians are to blame, of course. They seem to be responsible for all the world’s ills at the moment.’
She unbuttoned her coat, peeled it off and handed it to him. Underneath she wore a red wool dress, black tights and black boots.
He hung her coat up in the small alcove behind the door where he kept his own coats, shoes, umbrellas and wellies. The green coat that his mother used to wear – before she’d become sick and died – was still hanging there.
‘Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea? Whisky? Gin? Or maybe a glass of red wine?’
‘No . . . thank you.’ She looked around the living room as she perched on the end of the sofa. ‘It’s a nice room.’
She was merely being polite. It wasn’t a nice room at all. The previous owner had been responsible for the decor, and his mother hadn’t changed a thing.
Hovering over her he said, ‘Is there anything you’d like to do before . . . ?’
‘I don’t think so. We agreed . . .’
‘Yes, we did. I haven’t forgotten. I just thought that maybe . . . ?’
‘What?’
‘Well, you know? I mean, it seems such a waste. You’re so . . . beautiful.’
‘It’s true, I am. That’s been the problem all along though, hasn’t it? First my father, and then . . . Well, you know. I’ve told you all of my secrets.’
‘As I’ve told you mine.’
‘Yes, but that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’
‘It is. And I was thinking that instead of staring at each other waiting for the end to come, we could . . .’
‘Make the time go faster?’
‘You have a way with words, Hayley.’
‘Yes, I’m too intelligent for my own good sometimes.’ She stood up. ‘Do you want me in here?’
‘I was thinking about the kitchen.’
Her forehead creased up. ‘The kitchen?’
‘As I’ve confessed to you – I have fantasies.’
‘Ah yes! I think that’s why I picked you instead of all the others. You were willing to tell me the truth about yourself.’
‘I’ll prepare everything. And then we can . . .’
‘It seems appropriate.’
‘We won’t even know it’s happening. One minute we’ll be here, the next – gone.’
‘No pain?’
‘Neither of us will feel a thing.’
‘I’d like that. If I thought there’d be any pain . . .’
‘I promise, there’ll be no pain.’ He led the way into the kitchen.
She followed.
He turned all the knobs on the gas cooker to HIGH, opened up the doors of the grill and the oven. ‘There! It’ll simply be a matter of time now.’
‘I suppose we’d better hurry then?’
‘Yes.’
She turned her back to him and said, ‘Will you unzip me?’
He did as she asked.
The red dress fell to the floor.
He licked his lips.
She bent to pick the dress up.
‘There’s no point.’
‘Of course, I’m being . . .’ She stared at him. ‘You’d better get undressed as well, hadn’t you?’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ He shed his cardigan and checked shirt.
She took off her black lace bra, boots, and her panties together with the tights until she was standing there naked in front of him. There were indentations in her white perfect blue-veined skin from the bra and tights.
‘I’m nothing to look at,’ he said, removing his vest and Y-fronts.
‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘I can smell the gas.’
‘It won’t be long.’
She looked down at his shrivelled penis. ‘Don’t you find me attractive?’
‘I’m a bit nervous.’
The corner of her mouth quivered. ‘That’s understandable. I’m nervous as well, but it doesn’t show like it does with you.’
Who wouldn’t find her attractive? She had large firm breasts with symmetrical areola and nipples; an hour-glass figure, a flat stomach and she’d shaved her pubic hair into a straight line, so that it appeared to extend her vagina up towards her navel, but there was something missing . . .
He swung his right hand in an arc and connected with her jaw.
She crumpled at the knees.
He stopped her falling by thrusting his arms under her armpits, dragged her across the wood-patterned linoleum, threw her over the heavy kitchen table, and tied he
r wrists and ankles to the four legs with the rope he’d prepared earlier.
He turned all the gas taps off and opened the kitchen door briefly to let the build up of gas out.
There was a stirring between his legs.
He clutched a handful of her lush, thick hair and yanked her head backwards off the table. ‘Now I find you attractive, Hayley.’
She began to regain consciousness. ‘What . . . ? I thought . . .’
He wrapped the torn strip of cloth from his mother’s nightdress around her mouth and tied it really tight at the back. ‘What you thought, and what’s actually going to happen are world’s apart, Hayley. Oh, you’re going to die alright – just like you wanted to, but between then and now you’ll suffer a lot. The one thing I never did tell you about myself was that I can’t get an erection or ejaculate unless I’m hurting other people.’
He sliced into the skin of her back with the double-edged knife that he’d sharpened especially for the occasion, and his erection grew in response.
Hayley grunted with the pain and tried to escape from the rope ties that chafed her skin to the bone.
As he cut and stabbed, he jerked his hand up and down the erection. First slowly, and then faster and faster until his sperm shot out the length of her bloody and emaciated back like water from a fire hose.
‘Oh, that was good, Hayley. That was so good. It’s been so long. But it’s not over yet. No, no, no. I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time. And I know I promised to end your life, and I will – trust me. But first, we have the weekend together and a whole lot of hurting to get through.
Hayley Kingdom screamed, but only he could hear her, and his penis began to stir again.
***
Monday, February 22
‘I’ll never forgive you, you know,’ Richards said, hobbling into the house as if she’d had her skeleton fused together by liquid metal and groaning like a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig snuffling for truffles in the forest.
Parish laughed. ‘You’re such a baby.’
‘Tell him, mum.’
‘Tell him what? I imagine all you have is a couple of tiny blisters. I can burst them and put vinegar on them, if you like?’
‘I knew you’d take his side. I’ll be lucky if I can ever walk normally again.’
Parish grunted and reached out towards her. ‘Do you want me to help you up the stairs?’
She pushed his hands away. ‘I can manage, thank you.’
‘Maybe we should have a chair lift installed?’
‘That would be good.’
‘I bet it would. I’ll organise it – you pay for it.’
‘As if.’
They’d just returned from training in preparation for the London Marathon that they were entered for in April.
‘How far did you run this morning?’ Angie said.
‘It would be more appropriate to ask how far we didn’t run, which was twenty-five and a half miles.’
‘You ran a mile?’
‘Barely. Anyone would have thought she was running barefoot through a pit of burning coals.’
‘That’s what it felt like,’ Richards said, using the banister like a safety rope to pull herself up the stairs. ‘I’m going for a shower.’
Angie shook her head. ‘Was it that bad?’
‘Worse,’ Parish said. ‘I can’t see how I’m going to be able to put in the miles for this marathon if I’ve got to drag moaner around with me.’
‘I heard that,’ Richards’ voice slithered down the stairs.
‘You were meant to,’ he called back.
They moved into the kitchen.
He opened the fridge door, poured himself a glass of orange juice with ice and took a long swallow.
‘I suppose you have to do what you feel is right, but I know Mary really wants to run the London Marathon with you.’
‘I have to say – that’s not the impression I’m getting.’
‘You know what she’s like.’
‘Well, I’ll give her until the end of the week. If things haven’t improved by then – she’s on her own.’
‘That’s fair.’ Angie kissed him on the cheek. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let her down.’
***
‘I’m going now,’ he shouted up the stairs.
‘But I’m not ready. I haven’t had any breakfast and I’m still perspiring . . .’
‘Perspiring! From doing what?’
‘You know what.’
‘Brushing your teeth?’
‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
‘I’ll be gone by then.’
She came out of her room and began walking down the stairs. ‘I should report you to the . . .’
‘. . . Court of Human Rights?’
‘I’m sure they deal with cases of psychological abuse.’
‘Yes, and I’ve heard that they’ll listen to any bogus or pathetic claim brought before them.’
‘Sometimes . . .’
They both kissed Angie, and then hugged Digby when he complained that they’d not said goodbye to him.
‘. . . You offer thanks to the gods of good fortune that I married your mother and adopted you out of the goodness of my heart.’
‘I’d rather run the London Marathon.’
‘That’s something I’d pay good money to see.’
‘You wait.’
‘I will.’
Richards sat in silence with her bottom lip sticking out as he pulled out of the drive and set off.
As soon as he turned onto the M25 he was in a queue.
‘This isn’t very good,’ Richards said, breaking the silence.
‘Probably an accident up ahead. We’re not on here for long anyway. So, how’s it going with the gynaecologist?’
‘His name is Ethan Black.’
‘That’s not the answer to the question.’
‘Okay.’
‘Is he the one?’
‘He’s certainly good looking . . .’
‘He’s one of those people, isn’t he?’
‘A serial killer?’
‘You wish! No – someone who has everything going for them. He’s good looking, has a cool name, obviously intelligent, a good job, people love him . . . What type of car does he drive?’
‘A black Audi TT.’
‘Makes sense. It’s all about him. In fact, it’ll always be about him – never about you.’
‘I should listen to you.’
‘You should.’
‘I pick the wrong one every time. He is lovely though.’
‘As long as he’s getting what he wants, and you think he’s the best thing since sliced bread. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a string of women. It’s not serious. It’ll never be serious. As soon as you want it to get serious he’ll drop you like a stone.’
‘I know you’re right.’
‘And?’
‘I should end it, shouldn’t I?’
‘You need to ask?’
‘Someone is better than no one.’
‘You’re better than that.’
‘I am, aren’t I?’
‘In fact, if I was ten years younger and not already married to your mother, I’d snap you up without a moment’s hesitation.’
‘You’re only saying that because . . .’
‘I’m saying it because it’s true. ‘You’re beautiful, you have a cool name, you’re intelligent, you have a good job, people love you and most importantly . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Your stepfather is a hunk.’
She laughed. ‘In your dreams.’
‘You’re both beautiful people, but that’s where any similarities end. He’s selfish and you’re generous. He thinks about himself first, you think about others before yourself. He manipulates other people for his own ends, you can be easily manipulated because of your desire to please other people . . .’
She took out her phone, found a number in her phonebook and called it.
‘Hi, Ethan . . . Yes
, I’m busy as well . . . I just called to say you’re dumped.’ She put the phone back in her jacket pocket.
‘Was he bothered?’
‘Didn’t seem to be.’
‘I knew he wouldn’t be.’
‘You’re right – I’m better than that.’
‘Someone is not always better than no one.’
‘Says the voice of someone who has someone.’
‘But I used to have no one. I’m well aware it’s not much fun.’
‘It’s the opposite of fun.’
‘You have your mum and me.’
‘It’s not the same, is it?’
‘No.’
‘I promise I’ll get better at the running.’
‘I know you will.’
They pulled off the M25 onto the A10. It was slow going, but at least the traffic was moving.
‘You’ll find someone.’
‘You keep saying that.
‘That’s because I know you will.’
‘What are we going to do about Abel Winter’s murder and the false crime statistics?’
He thought about Richards asking Abel Winter to examine the recent published government crime statistics, how Abel had found discrepancies in the figures, spoken to someone at the Office for National Statistics, and then been killed in a hit-and-run. Abel must have known his life was in danger, because on Wednesday of last week Richards had received the crime statistics in the post. Abel had circled a dozen figures, put question marks against them, written “FRAUD” and two sets of initials “NG” and “PR”.
‘We’re going to do what we always do, Richards – get to the bottom of it.’
***
‘It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?’ Stick said as Xena climbed into the passenger seat.
