Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2) - Malcolm Hollingdrake (world of reading TXT) 📗

be over. We’ll not think about the seconds for the moment. The truth is, Carlos, after Jennings, I wanted to be caught.’ Lloyd held out a can and Carlos drank quickly before choking. Coke came down his nose as he tried to find his breath. Lloyd tapped his back gently. ‘Steady, no one will take it away from you. Take your time. If you’re good then you’ll have a lifetime. Where was I?’

‘After Jennings you …’ Carlos answered. It was uttered almost in a whisper.

‘Yes, thank you. I find it hard to concentrate for long periods these days, possibly the guilt or the fear of what’s to come. Something inside of me often screams that what I’m doing is wrong, possibly evil. In a way, I think it’s as cowardly as the first incident involving Rodgers and his bully boy actions. I know, now, I’ve become the aggressor, the tormentor and, I suppose, the destroyer. It’s taken neither strength nor speed. Yes, it’s taken a degree of courage, but that’s because I didn’t face the people directly; it wasn’t a confrontation. I faced them when their guard was down and they were at their most vulnerable. Vulnerable, Carlos, that’s like me.’ He drank from his can before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. ‘That’s how I’ve been all my life! I wanted them to find me, the police, and put a stop to it. I left clues, the shoes, the caps, the DVDs. You see the coppers in television programmes and they suddenly spot something at the crime scene. They swing into action and catch the killer before more harm is done. When we were out last night, we passed so many CCTV cameras. I knew they were there; I’d planned the route. But are they looking? Have they identified me? It’s all slowing down, Carlos. In my head it’s slowing.’

Carlos shook the can and angled it to suck out the remnants. He was more interested in the coke than the ramblings of the man in front of him.

‘Remember the carousel?’

Carlos nodded, keeping the straw between his lips. His mouth still seemed so dry; the cool liquid had tasted like nectar.

‘When I was young, my mother took us to the merry-go-round. I don’t know whether it was the strange music these machines played, you know, that organ sound.’ He played the imaginary keyboard with the fingers of one hand as he spoke. ‘Or the other children’s screams of excitement, or was it possibly fear? The horses’ wild faces, all flaring nostrils, teeth and wide staring eyes, or was it something else? I was never quite sure. Later in life I discovered the truth, I found my phobia. It was none of those things. It was the speed of the carousel’s rotation. As a very young child I had nightmares. There were neither clowns nor carousels involved but a conveyor belt running at a set speed. It never changed for what seemed like hours, it was constant. On and on it went, almost hypnotic and mesmerising but also disturbing. I’d wake up soaking wet and screaming. From then on, whenever I see something travelling at that actual speed, I grow anxious and scared. What’s strange, Carlos, when I get frightened everything slows to that speed, voices, music, people. It’s as if everything around me becomes synchronised to that terrifying pace. Do you think I’m slightly crazy, maybe even a little mad? Am I going insane, do you think?’ He threw his can hard against the wall and a stream of dark liquid and froth sprayed in an arching fan-like cascade before the can clattered and settled on the floor. It spun momentarily, driven by the escaping fluid. ‘Do you?’

Carlos stared at Lloyd, uncertain as to how he should respond. His heart wanted to scream you’re a fucking murdering lunatic as loudly as his lungs would allow but he shook his head in response. ‘No, I think you’ve been hurt too much in your life. Although I feel sure you’ve experienced a mother’s love, you’ve not had the love and attention of your real father. I had, until my father passed away; I valued that love. I went off the rails when he died, but I was helped and cherished by those around me. You’ve not met those who would cherish you.’ Carlos could hear the tremble in his own voice and feel the quivering of his lower lip.

‘Girls? I tried with girls you know, but I could never perform. That was one of the problems with Carla. Just couldn’t do it. Christ, even when it was on a plate. She was unkind too then. “Just do it, for goodness’ sake”. Those were her exact words. At that moment, for me it was impossible. It was her eyes. Everything slowed down and I left, tail between my legs, you might say. I bet she told them all, and that’s why they all laughed on that fateful night. They knew my secret and they laughed.’ A false smile cracked his lips, but Carlos could sense the sheer resentment the incident had sown. ‘They’re not laughing now, though. Every cloud as they say.’

Carlos suddenly recalled the notebook he had found and he thought of the initials FL followed by the zero. ‘Do you have another name, Lloyd?’

Lloyd laughed. ‘Frank Lloyd Millington. I should have been a Gaskell but if I had my way, I’d be simply Lloyd.’ There was a moment’s pause. ‘Enough of this bullshit.’

Leaning over he snatched the coke can from Carlos’s hand leaving the straw dangling between his lips. He quickly removed it, replacing the gag and strapping his arm back to the chair.

‘I don’t know how to love, but I know how to hate.’

Within minutes Carlos heard the side door open and then close, the key turn in the lock and then all was silent.

April and Skeeter climbed the steps before entering the Major Incident Mobile Unit. Blue-and-yellow fluorescent chequering ran down either side; an awning from the