Deleted Memories



  Deleted Memories

  By Alexandra Mosko

  Copyright © 2014 Alexandra Mosko

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  Deleted Memories

  An impatient knock sounded at Detective Constable Lyttle's door. Except it was a Saturday and he was off duty, so we shall refer to him as Adam Lyttle. Cloaking himself in a navy blue dressing gown he squinted at the digital clock. The glowing numbers revealed the time as 01:02am. Who on Earth would be calling for him at this ridiculous time?

  He ran his heavy hand through his thick brown hair and momentarily forgot why he had gotten up. Ah yes, someone was at the door. He walked down the stairs with the grace of an intoxicated old man almost missing the last step. The knocking became increasing persistent, this only infuriated him more.

  He pulled back a section of curtain and saw a familiar figure outside clutching a laptop case.

  "What the -" Adam recognised the figure momentarily. It belonged to Simon Wilmoss, a skinny trainee he had once shared a desk with. Simon was only 23 at the time, and his uncle was a high ranking officer on the force and managed to get his nephew a short placement shadowing a real detective constable. He chose Adam because his desk was the biggest.

  "You can make room for Simon here, can't you? Show him the ropes." He remembered him saying, "OK well, don't show him the ropes just do your job and let him watch or take notes, whatever it is he does." Just like that Simon was deposited at his desk, like an unwanted pile of bills.

  Shortly after Adam became the hottest office gossip; they nicknamed him the 'babysitter'. It won't be long he reminded himself it won't be long and he will be gone and you'll never have to do this again. The drop in social status kept him awake at night but the truth was Simon proved himself to be very useful on occasions. Be it mainly for photocopying or filing, Simon always had this excited look in his eyes. Perhaps he was anticipating the moment they would have a crime to solve together. Either way, the extra pair of hands was appreciated and the 'babysitter' taunts began to sound like ancient echoes in the distance.

  After his placement was up and no case came to the table Adam felt disappointed for the young boy. Every day Simon walked in and every day a filing tray was waiting for him on the desk. He never sighed; he just picked up the documents and began sorting. No complaints. Adam only wished they had something of a moderately fascinating nature to share with him.

  The day came when they said their goodbyes, and Adam did something he thought he would never do. He gave young Simon his card and said "If anything ever comes up, I'll give you a call". Unlike the false promises he had made before, Adam meant it this time. The light reflected from Simon's hopeful brown eyes and entered Adam's soul. "Thanks Detective Lyttle, I'd be most grateful!"

  Twelve voice messages later he regretted this gesture. Now calling him wasn't enough, Simon had actually turned up to his house. For God's sake what did this groupie want?

  "Simon? What are you doing here?" Adam asked, his voice still husky from the unexpected awakening.

  "You won't believe what I have for you!" his tone was serious, and cold. The once timid young boy now boldly allowed himself inside, without removing his shoes. He began arranging his laptop on the glass coffee table. Still amazed at what he had just witnessed, Adam could manage little more than a half opened mouth and fixed his gaze on Simon.

  "Simon, it's one o'clock in the morning. This is my house. What in the hell are you doing?" the atmosphere thickened with each exhalation.

  "I have something for you. It really couldn't wait. Trust me, this is all worth it". Bemused and cranky, Adam could think of very little that could be 'worth it' at this hour on his day off.

  Simon gestured for Adam to take a seat on the neighbouring sofa chair. The cheek! Adam obeyed anyway, and clasped his hands together ready for whatever Simon had disturbed him for. Simon produced a small red device from his jacket pocket and inserted it into his laptop. He turned the screen to face Adam. A media player file loaded and the darkened image of a man with white hair appeared.

  "What is this? You invaded my property to show me a video of some anonymous OAP?"

  Adam had a tendency to be snappy with people; he only respected those who were upfront. Good news or bad, everyone knew you just trim the 'fat' and get to the point. This was a very efficient way of working, it also gave off the impression he was an ignorant, heartless man but Adam didn't seem to be too bothered by his reputation.,

  "Please Detective Lyttle, I would like for you to be quiet" Simon noticed the shock glazing over Adam's face once again, "it's imperative you watch this and pay attention, you can't do that when you are throwing tantrums" without wasting another second, Simon clicked 'Play'.

  The video quality was poor, almost as if it was recorded in outer space and brutally damaged on its way down to Earth. After a few seconds the fuzz lifted and the man's face became clear. He adjusted the camera and checked himself from different angles. Satisfied the position was perfect, a voice was born.

  "I don't really know why I am doing this. I've done so well keeping all this to myself. It's a drowning feeling, knowing you're owed recognition but you never get it. Perhaps this is the reason for my making this. Thirty five years ago a group of twenty something's went missing from Norfolk, I believe the headline at the time was "Group of five, dead or alive?" that made me chuckle. A fine piece of journalism that was. Of course, the article ran off the usual statements. No suspects. Mysterious. Unexplained. No bodies. Just five missing lads. They had gone on one of those 'lad's weekends' and decided camping in wild woodland was the definition of fun. But none of them are laughing now."

  Adam listened intently, focusing his tired eyes on the screen. He remembered the case, but only because it had occurred just a few miles away from his home town. The case didn't generate much public attention because the bodies were never recovered. People only pay attention when there's a skeleton involved. The families of the five missing men launched a campaign and for many years continued to put up posters and preach to whoever would listen. The years went by. People stopped listening. They became forgotten. The incident was buried deep under a mountain of dust and other cases. The world moved on.

  "I could hear their vulgar heckling long before I could see them. Just hearing their voices made my skin cook with fury. My throat tightened as I remembered the torturous panic attacks from my past. You see none of those pigs were innocent. They robbed me of my sanity. Of course, they wouldn't remember that. I'm sure if their families heard me now they would go straight into denial. No, not my son! He would never hurt a fly! Well, he did. They all did. Like psychological vampires they sucked every ounce of joy from my life. Anyway, back to the point. I'm ready for my recognition. This is a message to their families, I killed your sons. I would absolutely love to tell you how."

  Casually the man got up and walked away from view and returned a little while later with a glass of water. Adam studied the face, the untamed eyebrows, the aging skin, the dark circles. The lack of emotion in his voice was chilling. He was watching the confession of a sadistic murderer.

  "So the first one, James or Jimmy, broke away from the pack and went to relieve himself in the woodland. He found a concealed area, it was perfect actually. It's like he chose the place where he wanted to die. So he was crouching down doing his mess and I wondered when the best time to do it was. Should I wait till he was done? Or should I surprise him? I chose the latter. Oh he was very surprised indeed. He was in such a shock his voice left him. He was all alone. What a way to go. Half naked with soiled underwear. The rock I hit him with was quite magnificent; I think it ended him instantly. But I battered him several times more just in case. His head was like mash. Not a pretty sight. Then I simply w
iped my brow and kicked debris over him."

  The man paused for a moment and took another sip of water. He cleared his throat and continued his story.

  "So a few hours passed the others were too pissed to notice Jimmy was gone. Some friends they were! Anyway, they were all so darn intoxicated I could have walked right up to them and they would not have seen me. Where's the fun in that? I settled near their 'camp' and waited. Sure enough, one of them stirred and began making his clumsy way toward me. He coughed then a flow of vomit poured out of his mouth. Busy throwing up his guts; I decided he needed some help. I tapped his shoulder and passed him a bottle of liquid. "cheers" he said. Cheers! He was thanking me for what I was about to do! He drank some of the liquid and immediately