Gemma Stark sat at her desk after guiding Danielle back to her cell a few minutes later, and let out a long, slow sigh. She'd had a pretty good idea what she had wanted to talk to her about given their conversation the week before. She'd also seen her and Myers interacting in the yard. He'd held her hand every day. For the first time in her professional career, Gemma Stark began to wonder if she'd made a mistake. Or at the very least, been too hasty with her refusal. There was no way Myers would try to harm her. Was there?
She poured herself some coffee from the pot by her desk and looked out the window towards the common room. It was almost empty now; most of the inmates were back in their cells. Should she go and speak to Loomis right now? Ask him what he thought? Yes, she was a trained Psychiatrist just as he was, but on this occasion, she felt uneasy. Had she made the right choice?
It was true ever since she had attempted suicide, causing her to be committed into Smith's Grove, that Myers had certainly kept a close watch on her after a few weeks. Dr Stark had always insisted to Dr Loomis that Michael was a man and could love the same as anyone else. Seeing their interaction had only strengthened her conviction in that regard. Should she have allowed the move? She'd seen the tears in her eyes when she'd refused… Yet…
She sighed again. There was still the fact that Halloween was coming up and they all knew Michael Myers was at his most dangerous on October 31st. Whether to her or not, it was too big of a risk. Right?
She remembered the conversation she and Dr Loomis had just hours after Michael had first held Danielle's hand.
…
"I may have to accept my mistake," Dr Loomis said as they sat in his office. "There may be something left for Michael after all. Did you see that?"
"I did," Dr Stark said curtly. Her tone made Dr Loomis look up at her in surprise.
"What?"
"You stopped the guards from intervening. Why? She could've been killed Sam! You were furious with Joanne the first time she accidentally crossed his line and now you're allowing it to happen? Don't you think he's just luring her into a false sense of security?"
Dr Loomis shook his head. "Michael doesn't work like that. He just kills on the spot. I think he's fascinated with her, purely because she cannot see him. He's probably never met anyone with her condition before."
Dr Stark snorted. "Yeah, ok Sam. What difference will that make to a cold-blooded killer? If anything, it would help him! She'll be easier to kill because she can't see him! Fascinated? Please!"
"Then why did he hold her hand out there?" Dr Loomis asked quietly. Though Dr Stark knew her boss was asking a rhetorical question. "Why did he not just make an attempt on her life right then?"
"How should I know?" Dr Stark stood up and slapped her hands on the desk in frustration. "I'm not Michael Myers! But I still say you're making a big mistake! You're the one who says there is nothing left, yet you're letting them get close so he can hold her hand! Joanne rushed over, and I saw you and her physically stop the guards from stepping in! Why? Are you trying to use her as some kind of…? Pawn to prove you're right? She could get killed!"
There was a long silence. Eventually, Dr Loomis spoke quietly.
"No Gemma," he said. Using her name for one of the very few times in their working relationship, but it got her attention. "I believe that what we saw was real. I'm serious. Michael crept up on Judith while she was naked and brushing her hair for God's sake! You're right. She would've been an easy victim, stupidly easy even, guards or not. But he didn't touch her! That's what I'm saying. He held her hand, and if you ask me, he felt protective towards her! I'm hoping she will prove me wrong, not right. He may have just met the one person who can get through to his heart, based on the simple fact that she can't see him."
"That…" Dr Stark spluttered. "That's… I'm sorry Sam but have you finally lost it? That's… Well insane! You've been trying to reach him for years! Thirty-five to be exact if you include before 1978. Why the hell would a blind person make any difference?"
"Michael has scars too," Dr Loomis said very quietly. "He is, whatever else he may be, still a man."
"I just think you could be putting her in danger!" Dr Stark persisted. "I'm her therapist, Sam! It's my job to look after her, and you're letting her stand beside a cold-blooded killer!"
"Just give me the benefit of the doubt. Ok? You were there. The guards will step in if they need to, they told us as much. But I honestly believe they could help each other through their separate pasts."
"Insane," Stark said again, standing and leaving without another word.
…
But now, sitting in her office, she was starting to wonder if what Dr Loomis had said all those weeks ago might not be right. Or at least in part. But she also knew she had to do what was best for Danielle. It was after all, Halloween in just a few days and she didn't want more innocent blood on her hands. Her decision had been the right one and she would stick with her convictions. She was almost as experienced as Dr Loomis was and could make decisions just as well as he could.
At last, over two hours late Gemma Stark finally headed home, hoping her husband Luke would still be up. She needed his arms around her and a large glass of wine with dinner. She needed him to tell her everything would be alright, even if she couldn't tell him what the problem was. She just hoped it wasn't a lie.
…
Derek Chancer was rudely woken by a loud tapping against his cell bars. He scowled at the guard. What was his name? David? He looked up. "What?" He snapped.
"You've got a visitor Mr. Chancer," David said.
Chancer gaped at him. "What?"
"You've. Got. A. Visitor," David said as if he were slow or didn't speak English. Chancer felt his anger rise. "I heard, you dickhead, but who is it?"
"Mind your language, don't want Solitary, do you? It's an old friend of yours, Mark Sarcozi is his name."
When visitors entered Smith's Grove, they had to show valid ID to prove who they were. Chancer's jaw dropped. Mark Sarcozi had abandoned him years ago. What the fuck was he doing here? Irritated, Chancer pulled on his uniform shirt. "Alright," he said. "I'll see him." He knew patients could refuse visitors, but he couldn't lie, he was curious. What the fuck was Mark Sarcozi doing here after all this time? Frowning, he didn't resist as David shackled him, then led him towards and into a visitor's room. Sarcozi was behind thick glass. Without a word, the guard unshackled him, and left.
…
Mark Sarcozi looked up at his former friend through the security glass as he entered and shivered. Those cold, calculating eyes hadn't changed a bit. What the fuck am I doing here? He thought. "Ching-Ching," Chris' cruel voice mocked again. Mark sighed. Could he, should he really do this? It wasn't too late to turn back…
"Well, well, if it isn't Mark Sarcozi." Chancer's cold, soft voice came through loud and clear. How the hell could Mark here him through all that glass? It was then he looked up and saw the speakers in the ceiling. He assumed there must be a microphone built into the glass somewhere, but he couldn't see it. All he could see was the button to call for a guard if necessary.
"Can, can you hear me?" Mark inwardly cursed when he stuttered a little. Shit. Chancer would know he was nervous.
"Loud and clear," Chancer said softly. "My ears are working just fine, but thank you for your concern, Marky Mark." That same, bitter sarcasm Mark had known from this man all his life. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "So, what can I do for you? I'm going to take an educated guess that you haven't come to drop off flowers and grapes for your old friend?"
"I…" Mark swallowed again. This was it. It was now or never. She's blind, he thought. I can't… But next thing he knew, he was speaking. Ching-Ching.
"I… I've only just got out the nick," he admitted and heard Chancer's snicker. "What for Marky?"
Mark hated being called Marky and suspected those who knew him guessed that and did it all the time just to wind him up. He took a breath. "Nothing much," he said vaguely. He really didn't want to go into it with this man, even if he'd once been a friend. "Just a bit of drug stuff."
Chancer laughed. "Oh Marky," Mark could almost hear his glee. "You disappoint me. Such a small-time crime. I hope this means you're on the way up now?"
Mark didn't answer. Not if I can help it, he thought. But then, what would he call what he was about to do now? He was about to put a blind woman's existence and maybe even life in danger. Could he really do this?
"So, what can I do for you Marky? How nice of you to drop in, but I suspect you have another reason to be here as opposed to just missing your old friend? Do tell."
Mark wondered for a moment how Chancer knew this, but then stopped. He was visibly nervous. It wouldn't take much for a man like Chancer to figure it out.
"Ok," he began. "I did genuinely want to see you Derek, that's true," he lied. "But I've also been asked to make contact with you by our old friend C.L." He heard Chancer's soft, "ah" and felt himself shiver again. Chris Leach that is a man you don't mess with. "So, what did he have to say?"
Mark wondered if these visitor's rooms were wired. If so… Then oh well, it wasn't his problem. Part of him almost hoped they were, so she would be warned and protected. What the fuck was he doing here? But it was too late now. He could easily walk away, consciously he knew that. Chancer couldn't get anywhere near him. But the consequences if he did… He shut that idea down as soon as it formed. Way too dangerous. Chancer also knew people. Mark wouldn't live past next week.
"He wants you to help him," he said quietly, leaning into the glass, hoping he was near the microphone that he couldn't see. "His organisation has been hired by a guy who wants reports on a patient here, on your ward. A woman named Danielle Hayward?"
Chancer laughed. "You're not serious Marky?"
Mark raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I am, C.L. contacted me last night. Why would I not be serious?"
Chancer looked at him as if he was stupid, the second person to do so in less than twenty-four hours, Mark observed. "Marky, she's never out of her cell the same time as me, the quacks in here saw to it. I can't even get close to her. Not to mention the one guy who scares the shit out of me is protecting her. You've got to be joking. I've heard rumours that he's already killed one guy here. No thanks man. Tell C.L. He can keep his cash. Not doing it."
"What do you mean?" Mark asked before he could stop himself. He knew Smith's Grove housed dangerous people; it was a mental hospital after all. But who had killed another inmate and now protecting Danielle?
Chancer scoffed. "Come on Marky! Really? Who's the one masked killer who scares every motherfucker in Haddonfield? Jesus' man, think!"
"You don't mean Michael Myers?" Mark asked in disbelief.
"Have a medal. Yes, I am fucking do. He won't let her leave his side and he's always watching her. No man, I'm not doing it. I want to fuck and kill more bitches when I get out of here and if I cross his path or anger him, I won't live past sunrise the next day."
"Um, I take it our client doesn't know this?"
"That his bitch is being protected by Michael Myers? How the fuck would I know? That's not my problem Marky. But you can tell both him and C.L. to go fuck themselves. I don't have a death wish."
"I don't think he's asking you to get up close to her," Mark said, his mouth going dry. She was being protected by the "boogeyman" Michael Myers? Holy fuck! No wonder Chancer wasn't willing. He wouldn't be either; he'd be running as fast as he could in the other direction. "He knows you'd kill her if you could, and I don't think that's the idea. Our client just wants to know what she says, who she's talking to, etc."
"I say again, you've got to be joking Marky! I'd never hear a word when she talks to that bitch quack Stark for obvious reasons, and Loomis won't tell me a damn thing, should I even try to ask, duh!"
"Just…" Mark sighed. This was good as far as he was concerned. It looked as if Chris' plan wouldn't work, and he would be in the clear. He hadn't told Chancer anything that could hurt her, nor his boss'. So far, his involvement hasn't done any damage and Mark would like to keep it that way. If Chancer wasn't able or willing to report anything, Mark wouldn't have to come back, which was just fine with him.
"Not to mention," Chancer continued. "She's in a cell up the corridor from mine, I wouldn't be able to hear anything."
"Um, yes you would," Mark said. It looked like his not causing damage was about to change. "You'd be provided with an eavesdropping device designed to look like something else."
Chancer rolled his eyes. "I'm not fucking James Bond; plus, how do you plan to get it in here without being stopped by security? How do you know someone's not listening right fucking now? I don't have a phone, forget that one, they'd find it within hours Marky. So, it'll have to be damn good."
"But if it works," Mark said softly. "Would you?"
"I'll think about it," Chancer said finally. "Get this device in and I'll let you know then. You'll have to do that anyway, before I even consider this crazy request. What's the pay packet anyway? It's not like money is any good to me in this shit hole."
"Funds will be deposited into a secret bank account," Mark murmured. "Tax free, no questions asked."
Chancer snorted derisively. "Yeah, ok. Heard that before. But I say again, I am not tangling with Michael Myers. No fucking way! If I sense he's caught on to this, I stop. Done. Finished."
"Ok," Mark agreed. He couldn't blame Chancer for that. So would he. "I'll come back with it for you tomorrow," he said as he slowly stood up, for some unknown reason his heart was pounding. The "Boogeyman" Michael Myers was in the very building he was standing in now. It made Mark's blood go cold and Goosebumps rise on his arms and neck. Michael Myers was one scary man.
"Right," Chancer said, standing too. "Nice to see you, Marky Mark. Get this device thingy in and we'll talk more. Good day my old friend. He walked away from the glass as a guard appeared beside him. Mark only dimly saw his former friend being shackled.
…
"How did you sleep? Liking your soft cell?" Dr Stark asked the next morning as Danielle sat in her usual place in the therapy room, window once again open, speakers off.
She grinned. "I love it, thanks. But I wasn't bouncing on the soft walls last night… Not yet anyway. Need more tea for that."
Dr Stark chuckled. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"A little on edge," she admitted. "Not just for me, but Charlotte too. Adam won't stop until he's found us, he's a very determined man. I'm safe and I know this, but Charlotte…"
"Don't worry," Dr Stark said. "We're already putting measures in place for her security, she'll be protected every step of the way, you have my word. Just for a moment, can we talk about you?"
She sighed. "It scared me," she said eventually. "I won't lie to you Dr Stark. I'd hoped he'd somehow lost my number. Sadly not. I'm going to have to change it, aren't I? That said, it's not like I've got many people I want to give it to," she sighed softly.
"One of our Domestic Violence Advisors will be able to talk to you today as soon as we're done here and can help you with all that if you're willing to work with her."
"Of course. I know I was a bit… Well, bitter when I first got here and I'm sorry for that Dr Stark. I know you guys are just trying to help me. I just… I didn't want to be saved at the time, I wanted to be dead. In the past, doctors had only let me down and I didn't trust you. Any of you. I'm sorry, I was wrong. I love Joanne, she's been nothing but kind to me, as have you. I know I was… Not the most engaging at first. Neither with you nor Joanne."
"For which we don't blame you," Dr Stark said kindly. "Dr Loomis didn't switch with me because you didn't engage, I promise you. He switched because one, I'm a woman and two, this is more my field than his. When I told you that at the time, I was telling the truth."
"Thanks. I do trust you now Dr Stark and will do whatever you ask, because I know you truly want to help me."
"That's our girl," Dr Stark squeezed her hand. "In which case, please answer me? How did it make you feel?"
"I think I was angrier than I was scared at the time that he'd dared to call me after court and everything. But…" She sighed. "The fear did sink in afterwards, of course it did. But after that I just couldn't close my eyes. Ryan was amazing too. I'm glad it happened on a night he or Joanne were there. Those two and Rick make me feel...well, safe."
"Good," Dr Stark said. "But you know any of our guards will protect you right?"
"Perhaps not Mr. Jackass," she muttered. For the first time, her doctor laughed.
"I know who you're referring to, he just needs a bit of…"
"A whack?" She offered. "Canes are good for that."
Dr Stark grinned, she could hear it in her voice. "Training. But I agree, he doesn't look out for or after you very well. I intend to speak to him, don't worry about that."
She smirked. She had a feeling Dr Stark could be scary when she had to be.
"Thank you for being honest with me," Dr Stark said. "Are you ready to talk to one of our DV Advisors?" They can help you with anything, from changing your number to extra counselling if you want it. They also only tell me things I must know. The rest is up to you. They don't tell me anything they say to you or you to them unless it presents any risk to you or someone else. I will say this again, we already have one working with Charlotte, so please try not to worry about her. We'll protect her, I promise."
"I know. Thanks Dr Stark, yes whenever she's ready, I am. I just have one request. A cup of tea? I think I'll need it." Dr Stark chuckled, standing up. "Done," was all she said before she walked away.
…
The Shape stood in his cell; his steady, unblinking gaze fixed and unwavering from the single one just up the corridor. He was looking for her. But why? If he didn't care for her, why was there an ache in his chest since she'd moved cells the night before? Why did he constantly need to know if she was ok? Why did he desperately need her back in his arms? She'd told him how safe she felt while he was holding her. But why was he doing so? How had she squirmed her way into his heart? He couldn't have said why he'd touched her arm, held her hand and then held her. Night after night! That had not been his intention at all, but the way she'd trusted him had done something to him that he still didn't fully understand. Then there was Jefferson. He had sexually assaulted her and that had made The Shape snap. He'd killed him because he'd hurt her. He couldn't deny it, not to himself.
If he didn't care, why couldn't he look away from her cell until he saw her come back? Why did he constantly need to know where she was and if she was ok? Even her moving cells had caused a slight jolt of… Something in his chest. He was missing her. The Shape smashed his hand against his cell bars causing an echoing clang. He felt his need to kill building up in him again, but it was aimed at one specific man. Adam Dawson. He wanted to kill him slowly, painfully, creatively. All because he'd hurt her.
So why was he longing and desperate for her to be in his arms now that she'd moved? Why would his steady gaze not leave her cell door?
…
Derek Chancer lay in his bed, tossing and turning. It wasn't like him not being able to sleep. He was normally a heavy sleeper and an unapologetic snorer. It normally didn't matter because he always slept alone. He never allowed any of the women he fucked to sleep next to him, and they usually ended up dead before sunrise as it was. They spent their last night alive locked in his basement, tied to what he liked to call his operating table. He smirked to himself at that thought, then sighed. All he wanted was to get out of this nuthouse, insane asylum, pick your phrase. But so far, things were not working out his way. Not only was he locked in here with no chance of getting out any time soon, as he was still deemed a danger to women, but now someone had hired his once friend Mark Sarcozi to come in and talk him into some sort of crazy job for some fucking rich guy.
Chancer stood up and walked to the bars. He could hardly see anything; it was pitch black and the small light in his cell set high in the ceiling only illuminated his bed. He couldn't see her cell at all from where he was. Maybe that was why she had moved, he thought with a brief flash of amusement. Because I snore.
This was crazy. Certainly, more insane than the people he was currently occupying this hell hole with. Michael Myers was just across the way and was constantly watching the woman, and ready to jump in and protect, that he'd been asked to eavesdrop on. It was suicide! Yet… Although Sarcozi hadn't specified an exact payment amount, Chancer guessed it would have to be a pretty hefty sum for an operation like this. Too bad he wasn't allowed to kill her at the end of it. Myers aside, the biggest block on that plan, is also the last thing their client wanted. He probably wants to fuck her when she gets out, he thought with a grin.
Chancer knew of Chris Leach, although he'd never met him. He knew how many people he had working for him in his criminal organisation, they weren't small time that was for sure. So how had Sarcozi wound working for them? Maybe he'd met someone while in prison. Chancer grinned to himself. Sarcozi really was an idiot. If you were going to get yourself arrested, there were way better and more fun ways to do it, not to mention more creative.
He walked slowly back to his bed, lying back down. He sighed softly. What he wouldn't give for a kill. Just one, right now. He could feel the craving for it running through his very veins. He let out a long breath. At least he and Meyers had that in common. But Myers didn't care who he killed, was silent and did so with no remorse just as he was when on the kill. Chancer suspected Myers also had some kind of supernatural abilities. How else did he know where people were and then sneak up on them the way he did? Chancer envied that. What he wouldn't give to do that. The number of women he could get his hands on. He thought dreamily.
He forced his mind back to the here and now, the matter in hand. Sarcozi, Leach and their crazy job. Could he, do it? Even if this eavesdropping device was good, state of the art even, was he brave enough to risk it? He'd meant what he'd said to Sarcozi. If Myers caught on to this, he was a goner. No arguments. He didn't fancy dying just yet, there were more women to kill for one thing.
…
It was past 8AM by the time Joanne reached her house. She'd got off on time, but there had been an issue with the gates, the security staff being late for the early shift. Joanne cursed. Why did they have to be so damn inconsiderate? She was tired, as she knew the other night staff were.
When she finally reached home, she entered, making herself some strong coffee. Slumping into her leather armchair, she sighed. She knew she wasn't supposed to take work home with her, but Danielle Hayward had become much more to her than just a patient. She genuinely liked and cared for the woman, who trusted her as well. She'd stood right next to her in that courtroom while the man who'd abused her was released without a scratch. How was that fair? Not only that, but the man had called her later that night. Talk about selfish, heartless, and cruel! She recalled how she'd thought she'd help Michael get to and kill him. No denying it, she still meant that. Every word. She wanted to help her even after she left Smith's Grove but wasn't sure how she'd do it.
Sympathy crashed over her again and she felt the tears start to slide down her cheeks. Little things did it. Like how she loved the sound of whistling or touching someone's ears. Or how she obviously trusted a masked serial killer with her life. Irony! How Myers seemed desperate to protect her and seemed to genuinely care about her. Joanne had grown very fond of her in the time she'd worked as her guard, which she hadn't planned to do but didn't regret it. Danielle Hayward was as kind, as according to her file, people had said she was. Of course, she'd been bitter when she first arrived. She'd been saved from killing herself after Adam had done what he had. Now she was in a mental hospital, clearly and unsurprisingly thinking people thought she was insane. But Joanne was glad she'd managed to crack her hard shell and get to the real woman underneath slowly but surely. She reached for a box of tissues and wiped her eyes. She would not stop protecting her even after her release. No way. She would do whatever she could to help her. She was determined on that. Whatever it took. Even if…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock, then gentle arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. It was Rick, he wiped her eyes on his soft shirt. "Hey babe," he soothed. "What's wrong?" He sat on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. Joanne hugged him tighter. God, she loved this man. Without fail, he came to check on her at the end of every shift, and after a night shift stayed to hold her while she slept. She wasn't ever letting him go. She'd found "the one" as she'd heard people say, she used to roll her eyes at that, but not anymore. Now she totally understood the meaning of the old, overused expression.
"Nothing," she said quietly as Rick lent in to kiss her. Their lips connected which turned into a long, lingering kiss. "Just everything," Joanne said as they broke it, but still held each other tightly. "That poor woman's been through so much and it breaks my heart. Not to mention I've had the displeasure of meeting Adam face to face, and he really is a slimy bastard! He's horrible, Rick. I want to help her even after she's released but I'm not sure how I can do that."
"That's just one of many reasons why I love you," Rick murmured, kissing her again. "Your kind, caring and absolutely selfless, Joanne Turner."
She blushed but couldn't help a small smile. "Oh, shut up."
Rick sighed dramatically. "Can't a man even pay his woman a compliment anymore?"
Joanne laughed, she couldn't help it, hugging him close. "I love you too Rick." She said softly.
…
"He's agreed to do it," Mark said, as he and Chris sat in their usual spot at the pub. They were drinking lagers, disguised in coke glasses. Mark wasn't sure if their being served alcohol at 10AM meant the owner didn't care about licence laws, or he was privately as terrified of Leach as he was. Mark secretly suspected the latter.
"Excellent," Leach said, rubbing his hands together in a highly self-satisfied way as he lounged back in his seat, his feet up on the old pub table. Mark recognised the casual, arrogant words said by this action alone. I'm untouchable, it said. I'm Chris Leach. I'm invincible. Mark privately hoped one day someone would prove him wrong. Someone like Michael Myers, perhaps? They were of course the only ones there except for the owner and he was hiding in the back room. Mark didn't blame him. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him and all that.
What the hell am I doing here? He thought again. This could be suicide! How did I get pulled into this? All because I know Chancer. I hardly know Leach! How did he get my number anyway? Probably some criminal passed it to him. How the fuck do these guys do that? Had they spoken to Chancer before contacting him and he'd given them his name? But no that wasn't possible. Was it? How had a childhood friendship, with a man who'd gone on to kill and rape countless women, and who Mark had severed ties with for precisely that reason, led to this moment? How was he now sitting here in this vile pub, talking to a top crime boss about surveillance work? He consoled himself knowing that Chancer was the one near Michael Myers, and not him. Once he gave over whatever Leach gave him, his part was done. He'd never have to see either of them again or that was just fine with him.
Leach reached across the table and handed him a small leather case. It contained what looked like an iPod, but with Leach you never knew for sure, headphones and the charger, which looked like any other.
"Take this in for him," Leach said. "You've given him the brief I take it?"
Mark had to resist the urge to punch the guy. Leach clearly thought he was stupid or something. "Yes," he nodded.
"Good man. Tell him all his instructions are on said iPod and to gain access he needs a password. So, tell him as he's a chance," he smirked. "He'll have to play the game to get rich."
Mark stared at him; not sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"
"He'll have to play the game to get rich," Leach repeated slowly, again making Mark want to hit him. "You don't need to know Marky, safer that way. Derek will understand, I'm sure. Fewer who know the better, wouldn't you agree?"
Mark couldn't deny that Leach made sense, and in truth, did he really want to know? So, he simply stood up, and pocketed the case. He decided then and there that he was not touching that iPod himself. Just for a second, he'd been tempted to warn Leach and by association his client about Michael Myers. But something stopped him. He wasn't sure what, but that was one piece of information he'd keep to himself. Maybe there was a slim chance Leach and Myers would meet? If Myers caught on to this like Chancer said, Leach would certainly be one of those to meet his death. He shook his head as he walked out of the pub, sincerely hoping he'd never have to enter it again.
…
"Derek, Mr. Sarcozi is here to see you."
Chancer looked up at the guard's voice. Not David this time, another one. But he couldn't remember his name and in truth he didn't really care. He'd heard rumours that the guard he'd almost killed was returning to work in a couple of days. That made him smirk. He'd just been desperate to kill someone at that time and that guy had just happened to be there. Bad luck for him. But he'd survived. The last thing Chancer remembered was a sharp pain in his head then blackness. He'd woken up in his cell hours later. The guard hadn't come back in since. What the hell was his name? Ryan? Reece? Ray? Chancer shrugged. It began with an R. As far as he was concerned the idiot had acted like a woman anyway, so he would be no loss. Maybe he'd have another shot at him when he returned to work.
Grinning to himself, he stood up and let the guard shackle him and lead him back into the visiting room. Yep, there was Sarcozi, looking straight at him through the glass. Chancer nodded to the other man as his shackles were removed and he took his seat.
"Can you wait just a second?" Sarcozi asked the guard. "I need to pass this to him."
The guard pressed a button and a small window between them opened. Sarcozi passed Chancer the leather case. The guards would know it was an iPod as it was checked at the gate, and it is one thing patients are allowed to have because they couldn't make calls on them. Chancer took it and waited until the guard had left before speaking.
"A fucking iPod?" He almost laughed. "Are you kidding Marky?"
"I don't know how it works," Mark said truthfully. "I just know what C.L. told me. All instructions are on there and he said to access it you'll need a password. He said, 'as you're a chancer, you'll need to play the game to get rich.'"
Chancer glared at him, clearly taking offense to the pun on his name. Serves you right, Mark thought. Stop calling me fucking Marky then.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'm just passing on the message. The password has something to do with as you're a chancer, you'll have to play the game to get rich. Even I questioned it, and he said it was better that I do not know. Honestly Derek, I'm totally clueless. I don't know any more than what I've just told you."
Chancer sighed. "Fine. So what? Are you supposed to come back or something and take a report?"
I hope not… "Again, I have no idea. I was just told to give you the iPod and that message. Honestly Derek, I know anything else".
"He actually said he's a chancer, so play the game to get rich?"
"He did."
He's got a fucking nerve. Thinks just because I'm stuck in this nuthouse, he can talk about me like I'm an idiot. I don't often kill men. But in his case, I might seriously consider changing that!"
Sarcozi said nothing. What could he say? It wasn't like he disagreed after all.
…
Derek sat on the bolted down desk chair in his cell, looking at the iPod. His mind was racing. He couldn't even unlock it without this fucking password. I need to play the game to get rich. He thought. What the fuck Leach? I'm a Chancer? Was that just a deliberate pun on his name? Or was it another clue? I'm a chancer, but he's not a Rich, he's a Chris… Play the game…
"Jesus Christ!" Chancer said in frustration an hour later, slamming down the iPod. Fucking hell! He'd never work the damn thing out! He was giving himself a headache trying to do so. He stood up, walked to his bed, and buzzed a guard asking for a cup of coffee. Fuck he could use a shot of whiskey. God knew he needed it.
Returning to his desk with his coffee, he again looked at the iPod in front of him. If Chancer was a clue, then the game must be some kind of name one. But how did that make any sense? To get rich? Rich was another name, a short version of Richard. Ok, so if it was a name game, then what was, to quote the old ABBA song, the name of the game? How did he play and crack the secret code?
Ok. So, first things first. He'd established that this game of Leach's involved names. Chancer and Rich proved that. So, the question was, what kind of name games were out there? Or at least ones which could give one access to a secret iPod? He frowned in concentration. He took a swig of coffee once he was satisfied it had cooled enough, then sat back, deep in thought. It couldn't be a guess the name game that made no sense. He had the names in front of him. So, what else could one do with a name?
That was when it clicked. You could change it. The way it was spelt. Chancer had no doubt now, this password involved changing a name. So, if the names he was supposed to change were already there, that meant changing the letters in said name. But he didn't think Rich or Chancer were the answers. This was better. He was getting somewhere. In which case, whose name did he have to change?
An anagram! Yes! That had to be it! That was the only way a name could be changed around. There were other names hidden in the name! "Got it!" He said out loud, his mind racing. It'd taken him over an hour to get to this point. Now, the question is, whose name did he have to make an anagram from? "Come on," he muttered under his breath. "Just think, then take well… Take a chance."
He sat once again at his small desk, getting more and more frustrated. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the damn iPod screen. He was getting a headache from it. Standing, he lay down on his bed for a while. He needed a minute before he went back to it, money be damned.
Suddenly he heard what sounded like a struggle, the loud clanking of chains then the cell door right next to his slamming shut. He went to the bars and saw three guards standing against the wall, wiping sweat from their faces, and gasping for breath. "Good work gentlemen," he heard Dr Loomis say. "Are you all ok?" He didn't have to think too hard about who'd just been escorted in by three guards. They hadn't even removed his chains!
Chancer found himself yet again thinking. His mother had taught him a way to think about something before he did it. She'd brought him up alone since his father had left them when he was three. Of course, chasing another woman. Chancer wondered if that was partly why he hated them so much. Women. They were bitches who'd taken his father away from him. He'd never kept in contact with him or his mother. He didn't blame his father; he blamed the bitch who'd stolen him from them. The only woman safe from him was his mother.
It was known by her and now him as C.S.W. could, should, would. Could he do this, should he, would he? Right then, the loudest one was the one in the middle. Should. This was a fucking suicide mission! This absolutely was insane! They'd just locked the damn killer next door to him, and he was still in chains! Something had clearly happened just now, an attempt or success on the life of a guard or patient by the silent killer. Chancer shivered a little. Should he do this?
Even if he thought of the other two could and would, should was still the one shouting loudest. Michael Myers was only protecting the damn woman he'd been asked to eavesdrop on. The guy who'd almost killed someone just then it seemed. As for would, well yes, he would do it for the money if nothing else, plus possibly a chance to get out of here to kill and rape more women sadly not Danielle Hayward, but… Could he, do it? That was the final question. Was he up for it? That went well with should in this scenario. He knew the risks, his death. Standing, he walked slowly back to his desk. If he was honest with himself, he knew he had to get the damn thing to work first so he'd know what he was being asked to do and how to do it before he considered fully whether he could or should.
Sitting down again, he once more picked up the iPod. Play the game to get rich, he thought. It seemed to him that Rich was a clue. Was it the first line of this password he needed? He picked up a piece of paper from the pile and the ridiculously blunt pencil he was given. He understood why they didn't give him a sharp pencil, so he couldn't plunge it into someone's eye, or neck.
He wrote down R.I.C.H and looked at it intently. Looking at the four letters in front of him, he considered. If this was an anagram, how could you turn them around? He only had one vowel, so it couldn't be that difficult. Slowly, he wrote C.H.R.I and felt a jolt of excitement. Of course! He was pretty sure he almost had it. Play the game to get rich. RICH. He'd turned R.I.C.H around and got the beginnings of what?
Chris, of course! Who oversaw this? C.L! Chris Leach! So, was the anagram a turnaround of Chris Leach's name? Judging by what he'd just found, it was possible. He hadn't used the S of Chris yet, so he turned his attention to the name Leach. L.E.A.C.H, he wrote, then looked carefully at it. Bearing in mind he still had an S to play with that had to be part of the second word, assuming of course RICH was the first. H.C.E.A.L., He wrote then, again thinking hard. He didn't think it was CHEALS, he'd never heard of anyone with that Surname, but what the hell? This was Chris Leach after all. His hand shaking a little, he typed RICH Chelas into the password box.
PASSWORD INCORRECT! Flashed up on the iPod screen. Chancer cursed under his breath. Ok, but he was close, he was sure he was. He couldn't be that far wrong surely. So, what next to do? Simple. Swap the places of the A and the E. This time, he typed in RICH CHALES. He could hardly believe it when the iPod unlocked, and a welcome screen appeared. By God, he'd fucking done it! He now wondered if even Chancer had been a clue after all, considering C.H.A. Were the first three letters of the second half of the word.
Ripping his piece of paper into unreadable pieces, he tossed them in the toilet and flushed. Ok, so he was in. Now what? He glanced down at the welcome screen and started to read the text moving across it.
Well hello Derek. So, you're in. Congratulations. Told you playing the game would get you rich. Or should I say, might. You must do your job first. Don't worry about the little timer in the corner, it's just counting down the time until this document is automatically deleted. Rely on your memory my dear man, you'll need it.
Chancer looked down and saw the little red clock. It read 4 minutes 35.
seconds and as he watched, changed to 34. Damn. He knew Chris Leach was a technical genius, but this? He made so-called I.T experts look like kids with their very first computer. Chancer was surprised Leach didn't have a computer which said Welcome home Chris in a seductive female voice when he walked through the door then a slot opened in the front and his piping hot dinner came out, followed by a beautiful prostitute hours later. He looked back at the screen. He needed to read this and fast.
So, I'm not entirely a slave driver Derek. This iPod is a five hundred GB model, packed with all your favourite music, movies and of course porn. Plenty of women being abused for you to watch. But that's in your free time. How much of that you have is up to you, but if you want money, you'll have to work for it. So, the app, this iPod only has one app on it, it's called "I'm listening." All you must do is open it and hold the device up with the microphone pointed towards where you need it, while wearing the headphones included with the iPod. It can hear up to fifty ft. away, as clearly as if they are next to you. But if you want payment, you must be listening. Did you think you could just put it on and leave it? No chance. Every hour, you'll have to press the "I'm listening" button labelled with a little earphone icon, or your payment will stop being calculated. There is also a "talk" button marked with a telephone icon, but that is only to be used if it's urgent. I should also tell you about the password. If it's entered incorrectly three times within ten minutes, well let's just say you won't be able to re-enter it a fourth time. You won't be alive to try.
Chancer stared at the iPod in a mixture of horror and awe. Leach had rigged this so-called iPod to kill if the wrong password was entered three times? Holy fuck! He'd known Leach was a genius, but this? Chancer didn't know whether to admire this amazing technical feat or scream and throw the iPod down the toilet. How would it kill? Release lethal gas? Explode? He hoped he wouldn't find out. He knew the password and had flushed the paper, so it wouldn't be an issue. Still, one thing was certain. Leach didn't want anyone else getting into this iPod. So much so he'd kill to stop them. Chancer wanted to say Leach was bluffing, but if he knew Leach like he thought he did, he wasn't. Chancer sure as fuck wasn't going to try it to find out.
I will also be sending in my contact to get face to face reports from you as well. Just in case. The files are recorded onto a secure external server, but… You know. Can't take any chances. We might miss something. So, expect visits from him from time to time. You know him and they'll let him in.
Chancer looked up from the screen, anger rising in him. What the fuck? Leach was making him work every angle for his money. It is fucking better be worth it. The problem with Leach was that he had so much power and influence, not to mention he was terrifying, no one dared to refuse him. Chancer looked through the bars again towards Michael's door. He could just see the killer standing stock still at his cell bars, steadily gazing at Hayward's cell. The sight made Chancer hesitate. This was suicide, this really was insane! Could, would, should he do this?
He knew it wasn't too late to back out, money be damned. If Michael Myers found out what was going on, Chancer would be dead before he even realised it. If he could kill a guard and countless others without blinking an eye, then he'd kill Chancer for spying on Hayward without a second thought. If Michael had second thoughts that was. For a few seconds, Chancer was seriously tempted to say no. To hand this goddam killing device disguised as an innocent looking iPod in and tell Leach to fuck himself and his client, just as he'd said to Sarcozi. Having seen how nervous Sarcozi had been when he'd handed it to him, he sensed Mark was also uncertain about this. They would both be spying on Hayward and by association Michael Myers. Sarcozi knew this too, Chancer was sure of it. He wasn't even sure Sarcozi would come back. He was skittish, always had been. Yet, if Leach dangled a big enough money carrot in front of him, he wasn't sure Sarcozi would be able to refuse it. Chancer could understand, to some degree, if enough money was offered. Given how, to use the clue, rich, Leach was, it would be a huge sum. He wasn't sure he could refuse it either.
Slowly his hands shaking a little, he opened the "I'm listening" app. It looked very easy to use. A headphone Icon and a "Stop" button. Next to it was a telephone Icon with the word "Talk" on it. He assumed that would get him through to the people he was working for, if needed. He didn't know how long he was expected to listen for each day, he assumed the more he heard the more money he'd get. He sighed as he plugged in the earphones which had come with the iPod, (or was it, killing machine) and pressed the "I'm listening" button.
He pointed it towards Danielle's cell, holding it casually as if he was listening to music. Immediately he heard a soft hissing noise which he knew was from the iPod's microphones, which he was sure were way more powerful than standard ones, then heard Hayward cough. Jesus Christ! She was all the way down the other end of the corridor, yet he could hear her as if she was next to him. Too bad she wasn't. He'd fuck her then kill her and love every second of it.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate. This could be a very long job. Not to mention he had to press the button every hour just to tell Leach he was working. All it probably did was ping Leach's inbox with an email without which he wouldn't pay him. Probably didn't calculate anything at all. Technical son of a bitch had thought of everything. When the hell was, he supposed to sleep? What if he missed something important? No loopholes to exploit and entering the wrong password three times would be the last thing he did in his life.
…
Danielle sat on her bed with her hands over her mouth. So, Dr Stark had been right. She'd heard Michael being put into the cell next door to Chancer and Dr Loomis asking, "Good work gentlemen, are you all ok?" He'd told her Michael had tried to grab Ryan by the throat. So, Michael was dangerous on and around Halloween.
She'd felt tears spring to her eyes. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked.
He's going home for the day but thank you," Dr Loomis replied. "He'll be fine, he wasn't hurt."
She sat there, four words running constantly through her head like a stuck record, but which she couldn't deny no matter how hard she tried. I love a killer. I love a killer. I…
…
"Back into the breach," Rick said as he pulled on his heavy jacket. It was freezing outside, and he was finally able to return to work. He'd taken the full two weeks off and now he was back. Joanne had told him of what'd almost happened to Ryan. Dr Loomis had called warning her to be careful on her shift that night and about the interaction between Michael and Danielle for now. Two guards and no physical contact. Joanne had covered her mouth just as Danielle had, blinking back tears.
"Is he ok?" she'd asked Dr Loomis.
"He'll be fine, he went home after it happened. Just please be careful, you and Rick as the two guards who work closest to Michael."
"We will," Joanne had said, "Thanks."
Now, Joanne's emotions crashed over her, but this time of a different sort. Standing, she pulled Rick tightly to her and kissed him hard. "Hey," Rick soothed, as she fought back tears and hugged him as tightly as she could. "What is it babe?"
"I just love you so much Rick," Joanne said through the lump in her throat. "Please, please be careful tonight. I almost lost you once, I can't do it again!"
"Shh," Rick murmured, kissing her back. "I'm not going anywhere Jo. Plus, I could say the same for you sweetheart. You do the same job as I do and you're even better at it than me."
"Oh, shut up," Joanne smiled faintly, trying to wipe away her tears.
"Hey, I'm serious," Rick murmured, as they held each other tightly. "You were asked to look after her and she trusts you. You're a damn good guard Joanne Turner and don't you ever forget it! So, you be careful too, you hear me?"
"I hear you darling," they kissed again.
Dr Loomis had called Rick two days before, asking him if he was sure he wanted to work a night shift as his first day back. Rick had said it was fine, so now here they were. Dr Loomis knew about him and Joanne, he saw them one day when he'd come round to visit Rick while he'd been off. He smiled and simply said, "Congratulations. About time. We could all see it except you two!"
Rick and Joanne had stayed together every night since they'd become a couple, either at hers or his. Now they left Rick's in his car, both in uniform. They'd pick up their equipment in the office before starting. They called the office the guard hub which had all their lockers in and their break area. But Joanne tended to bring her own food rather than spend money in the staff canteen. Occasionally she did treat herself, but not often. Today she decided she'd treat her and Rick to a cooked breakfast in the canteen once their shift was over at 7AM.
For the last few days, Rick had come to pick her up from work at the end of her shift. Damn. She was never letting this man go. If he didn't ask her a certain four-word question before too long, she'd ask him herself. Joanne Turner had never felt so happy or in love in her life. Rick had met her mother twice now; with her father gone she'd treated him like her son from the first moment they met. Although that might've been because Joanne had told her all about him for months.
"She hasn't stopped talking about you actually," Ruth Turner had said the first time she met Rick, pulling him into a tight hug as if she'd known him all her life. "So, I feel like I know you already. Do come in, both of you, lunch is on the table."
When Rick had called her Mrs. Turner the first time, Ruth had mock glared at him and said "Hey, I'm Ruth to you dear boy. My future son in law calls me "Ruth," Rick didn't say it again, he'd just smiled. Joanne could see the two already loved each other by the end of the meal. Good. They were the two people Joanne Turner loved most in the world.
"What does Ruth think about you working at Smith's Grove?" Rick had asked her that night. "You are being her only daughter and all."
"Oh, she's great about it," Joanne answered. "Said she's really proud of me, just tells me to be careful."
"As am I," Rick said, kissing her softly. Joanne adored him.
Now, they reached Smith's Grove and showed their ID. "Good to have you back Rick," Jason, the guard on the gate, said. Rick smiled at him. "Thanks pal. It's good to be back."
"You be careful though alright?" The guard shook Rick's hand as he handed him back his ID. "You're a good man, don't want to lose you the next time."
"Well said" Joanne said. Rick smiled at both. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.
They entered the guard hub and pulled on their vests and equipment belts. Jack and Dave who were also working the nightshift shook Rick's hand and welcomed him back.
"We've missed you man," Jack said. "Good to see you back."
Neither of them said anything about Rick and Joanne, but Rick saw them smile at each other. "Do they know?" He asked her quietly as the four guards headed in for their briefing from the night shift supervisor.
"Um, yes?" Joanne looked at him as if he were stupid. "I told everyone, I'm so happy."
Rick pretended to roll his eyes, then squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "Me too," he said softly. "I'd have done the same." He didn't release her hand as they went into their briefing.
"Listen up!" Andy the night supervisor said, and the room went silent. "Michael Myers, it seems, has a reason to kill someone." Three guesses who, Joanne thought.
"He could've very easily killed Ryan Jenkins this afternoon. So, if you need to interact with him tonight, take precautions, stay well back and be very, very careful. Everyone get me?" They nodded, Jack and Dave murmured "Jesus" in unison.
"Joanne, I believe Dr Loomis has already given you instructions about Michael and Danielle this evening?" Joanne nodded. "Yes Sir."
"Just call me Andy," Andy smiled. "It's only us in here. No need for Sir tonight." They smiled back at him. "Yes Andy," Joanne amended. "I know what to do."
"Good stuff. Ok well that's all, have a safe night guy."
They all said "Thanks," then headed into the block to start their shifts.
…
Derek Chancer lowered the iPod, removing the earphones. He'd had it on listening for three hours now and had heard nothing. After he'd tested it the first time, he'd taken it off for a couple of hours before putting it back on, but there had been nothing for him to hear. She was in her cell alone and not talking to anyone. He'd have to wait until things got interesting. But at least he knew how the damn thing worked now.
Lying back on his bed, he thought of all the introduction screen had said. The password triggering a killing device if entered wrong three times within ten minutes, Chancer highly doubted that would really happen. On that he was sure Leach was lying. It would probably be within twenty-four hours. That would make the most sense. If he couldn't get in, for the risk of dying, he wouldn't make money. Technical bastard. He'd seen the little clock which came up when he entered the password, showing how many more attempts he had before… Well, before whatever happened, happened.
He died? Again, Chancer willed that thought out of his mind. Never mind how the so-called iPod would kill him. He really didn't want to think about it. Plus, it wouldn't happen, he was sure of that. He'd also noticed the line, "Can't take chances" which had also annoyed him. That one was most definitely a pun on his name, even if the other ones hadn't been and he hated Leach for it.
Insolent son of a bitch. Yet, he couldn't deny the guy knew what he was doing and knew his stuff. Chancer couldn't help but respect him for that. Whoever this client was, he must be paying good money for Leach to bring this equipment into operation. He obviously really wanted to know Hayward's movements. The why, wasn't Chancer's concern. But he couldn't deny he was curious.
His ears pricked up then, as he heard the block doors opening. It was the night shift guards. He glanced at his watch. Yep, had to be them. He looked through the bars. Ah, so Ray, Reece, whatever the fuck his name was was back. Ha, Chancer snickered behind his hand. Don't come too close to me pal, or Michael Myers for that matter. Not unless you really do want to die this time.
"Hey Reece," he yelled. The guard glanced over and pointedly held up his name badge. Rick. That was his fucking name. Rick. "Alright Ricky?" Chancer yelled. "You look like a woman! It's no wonder I almost killed you! Come back for another go?"
Rick turned away. Grinning, Chancer lay down on his bed. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. He heard the soft clinking of chains and felt himself shiver a little. Myers had clearly heard him. Ok, so he'd said enough for tonight.