***

After they had visited the beach, Howard walked with Anita and Jack, until they approached the row of shops where “Steve’s Vinyls’ store was located.

“I’m going to have a mooch inside, then head off home.” Said Howard.

“Okay. When do you want to meet up again?” Asked Anita, who was still carrying around disappointment in her heart at Howard’s earlier rejection. “Actually, is there any point in us meeting up again?” She suddenly asked.

“Don’t be like that, Anita. You’re my best friend. And so is little Jack here, too.” He replied, ruffling the little boy’s hair with his fingers. “I would love for us to all be together, properly, as a family. I really would. But I’ve got reasons why that can’t happen, and they’re very compelling reasons, too. If I could tell you, then I know that you’d understand…”

“Try me.” Interrupted Anita. Howard gave her a sad smile.

“If only I could, but it’s not that easy. One day though, you’ll probably work out for yourself the reason why.” Said Howard, with an unintended air of mystery. That’s because I know that I’m not indestructible, or infallible, and that I’ve already done some terrible, horrible things. Some day in the future - when, I don’t know - I’m going to get caught. My dirty, rotten secrets will be exposed to the whole fucking world. It’s inevitable. People like me always get found out, in the end. We think that we’re clever, but we’re not… not really. If we were clever, we wouldn’t be doing the things that we do in the first place.

Howard knelt down and gave Jack a kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll see you soon, young man.” He said. “Look after mommy for me.”

“Bye bye.” Replied Jack. Howard gave the young boy’s hair another ruffle. He stood back up, and pulled a twenty pound note out of his pocket.

“Here,” he said to Anita, “get Jack something nice.” Howard handed the money to Anita.

“Howard, you shouldn’t…”

“Yes, I should. I want to.” Howard cut-in, before his friend could protest any further. He reached out and stroked Anita’s face. “I just wish that I could be different… to be able to give you what we both want… but I can’t.” Howard told her. Anita reached up and held Howard’s hand for a few moments, before letting go.

“I’ll see you soon, Howard. Give me a call.” She said.

“Will do.” Replied Howard. Anita smiled.

“Come on Jack, let’s get you home before this snow gets any worse.” She said to her young son. Howard watched as they walked away. Jack turned around and waved at him, and the teenager returned the gesture. For a brief moment, Howard felt his eyes moisten. Hurriedly, he wiped them dry with the sleeve of his coat.

“No.” He whispered, quietly. “I don’t cry.” Or so I tell myself.

***

Howard didn’t spend long inside “Steve’s Vinyls’; there was no new stock in, and therefore nothing of any interest for him at all. Instead, he headed a few doors down, to ‘Coldsleet Books’, a small, second-hand book-shop that, like most other retail outlets in the town, was pretty much on its last legs. Howard entered the shop, which was run by a hunched-over old lady called Minnie. When she saw Howard, Minnie smiled.

“Ah, young Mister Trenton. We don’t see you in here very often.” She said.

“How are you keeping, Min?” Smiled Howard.

“Oh, not too bad, my dear. And yourself?” Minnie asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay… wish the weather would warm up a bit though.” Howard responded.

“I know. It’s a bloomin’ cold one today.” The old lady agreed. “So, is there anything in particular that you’re looking for? Some books for college, perhaps?” Enquired Minnie.

“No. I’m just browsing.” Answered Howard, and he walked over to one of the shelves that had a little cardboard sign pinned to the top of it, saying ‘True Crime’. There were only a handful of books under that heading. This didn't surprise Howard; if one wanted a decent selection of books in that particular genre, it usually meant a trip to Elman, which had three, much larger, stores that catered for readers.

Howard pulled one of the true-crime books out, and looked at the cover with slight disgust.

‘Secrets of a South-Coast Viper - Inside the World of Gang Boss, Ricardo Velida’, the book was titled, accompanied by a photograph of an ageing chap, holding a large handgun. The old man looked, to Howard, a lot like the late comedy actor, Charles Hawtrey. God, I hate rubbish about fucking pseudo-mobsters, Howard thought to himself. He hurriedly pushed the book back onto the shelf, and pulled out a larger hardback next to it. Howard studied the cover.

‘The Greatest Act of All: Murder! - A Study into Donald De’ath and his Crimes - By Jed Fellows’. Underneath the book’s title was an aged picture of a camp-looking man standing on a theatre stage, and holding a bunch of flowers. Is this for real? Who the fuck is Donald De’ath? Wondered Howard Trenton. He sighed and put the book back in its place on the shelf. The next book that he looked at was of far more interest than the previous two Howard had briefly perused; it was a compendium concerning serial killers. From the cover, the faces of Charlie Manson, Theodore Bundy, Fred West, Reg Christie, Peter Sutcliffe, and several others, stared out towards Howard, who smiled back at them. These are my kind, thought Howard Trenton to himself, this is the group of individuals to which I belong. I didn't ask for it to be that way. It’s just the way that it is…

Minnie, the book-store owner, interrupted Howard’s private thoughts.

“That’s a good book, is that. Especially the stuff about Peter Sutcliffe. I used to live in Leeds, back in the very early nineteen eighties, when he was on the loose up there. They were frightening times.” Reflected Minnie.

“It all happened long before I was born, Minnie… is he still alive?” Asked Howard.

“Yes, as far as I know. I think that he ended up in one of those special hospitals… Rampton, or maybe it was Broadmoor.” Replied Minnie. “Mind you, there’s some people in Coldsleet who’ll tell you that there’s a killer doing the rounds in this neck of the woods.”

“What? Here in this town?” Responded Howard.

“No, not specifically in Coldsleet… well apart from that one girl… I can't remember her name now… but up along the north-west coast. There's been quite a few disappearances over the last two or three years.” Advised Minnie.

“Really?” Asked Howard, who knew damned well what the elderly lady was talking about. Dark memories began to cascade through his mind…

“Oh yes, and there was that one young woman who went missing from…”

“From Elman. Yeah, of course, I remember that one well. There were posters of her put up at the College, asking for information about the disappearance.” Said Howard. “I thought that the teenage girl who vanished from Coldsleet was just a runaway?”

“Well, that seems to be the general opinion… she was a bit of a tearaway, was Becky, but some around here aren’t so sure.” Minnie told Howard. “Did you not know her? She was about your age?” She asked. Howard shook his head.

“I’ve only got a few friends Min, and that’s the way that I like it. I keep myself to myself. I don’t take too much notice of anyone else.” He replied. Except Howard did know, or rather, had known Becky Robinson, and on a very intimate level too. Because, not that long ago, Howard Trenton had murdered the young woman. By freezing her to death.

Chapter Four

Netherton farmhouse had been empty for almost twenty years, ever since the former owner, Len Goodman, had died from a sudden and massive heart attack. Since then, the elements had taken hold of the neglected building; one of the farmhouse walls had partially crumbled, and the roof had collapsed. Howard Trenton found a beauty in that; he’d never seen the farmhouse when it was intact, and couldn’t imagine what it had once looked like, either. It wasn’t something that he spent a lot of time dwelling on, truth be known. Howard preferred the structure to look just the way that it did; broken, and slowly falling apart.