DETECTIVE JACK PARNELL, NORTH YORKSHIRE POLICE HQ UK, 1986, 10.55

The door opened to the police interview room. Both policemen stared at the tape sat on the table in a sealed plastic evidence bag. One walked toward the table and took the last drag of his cigarette. He looked at the smoking filter and sniffed, then stubbed it out in an ashtray in the table's centre. He sat down and looked up to the other officer who stood perfectly still.

'Come on Gary,' he said, 'we have to make sure it's real. If it gets too gruesome I can always turn it off.'

Gary walked to the chair opposite and sat down, all the while eyeing the tape in the bag.

'Jack,' he said, 'I didn't join the squad to fanny out at the first hurdle, just play the damn tape.'

Jack nodded, his grim face gave Gary the impression this was not going to be easy to listen to. Pressing the record button, Jack started. 'This is detective inspector Jack Parnell and with me is Gary Auckland, Gary if you would, state you are here for the tape please.' Jack nodded toward the tape recorder.

'This is D.I. Auckland, as previously stated.'

Jack sat back in his chair, an ominous silence filled the room. 'Okay, I am opening the bag, which has the tape inside.' Jack pulled the tape out and put it in another tape player adjacent to the first.

'Just as a footnote for anyone listening to this, the 'Ankle Biter' always starts the tape off with his poem, this way we know it is authentic.'

Jack nodded to his partner, whose finger hovered over the play button.

Gary closed his eyes as he pressed down.

A deep slow voice started the poem.

Jack leant over and whispered. 'He uses a contraption to change his voice.'

Gary nodded.

The ankle biter

Comes at night

Its eyes are black

Its skin is white

It does not want

To hear you speak

When in your room

It comes to peek

So firmly close

Your mouth I say

Or it will steal

Your tongue away

And furthermore

Upon your feet

It likes to gnaw

It likes to eat

So keep your boots

Bound good and tight

Before you go

To sleep at night

It comes for you

It comes for me

It comes for those

Who cannot flee

It comes for both

The old and young

So guard your feet

And hold your tongue.

Jack put his head in his hands. 'Fuck! It's real.'

The voice on the tape started again. 'Jack? Oh, I do hope you are there Jack, I do love our chats.'

Sniff.

'A little one sided, but I love sending these to you. Do you enjoy listening to them Jack? Do you like the screams Jack?' The metal shink of a knife being run down a sharpener could be heard from a distance.

Jack's jaw tightened. 'Fucking sick bastard.'

The voice was back. 'She's pretty this one Jack, but you weren't there again, Jack.'

Sniff.

'You weren't there to protect her, Jack.' The voice paused, Jack and Gary listened to the tape reel spinning.

'You weren't fucking there Jack!' the killer shouted, and both cops flinched. Gary jumped back in his chair as if the man were going to claw his way out of the tape.

Jack covered his face with his hands. 'The sick bastard is hyping himself up.'

'Sorry Jack. I shouldn't swear, it's not right. We should never... swear... in... front... of... children. Isn't that right?'

Muffled cry.

'She agrees Jack.'

Snuffling.

Both policemen winced as a hard slap sounded. 'Bitch won't stay stood up Jack, I had to do it Jack. I had to teach her a lesson. She made me do it Jack, it's all her fault.'

Sniffling, muffled crying.

'You sick fuck!' Jack shouted and banged his fist on the table.

'One thing Jack, why are the papers calling me The Collector? I am the Ankle Biter, the stealer of children. So why Jack?'

A long silence.

'Ah! I have it. It's because I don't give them back isn't it Jack. It's because you haven't found one of my little dolls, have you.'

Jack noticed Gary's furrowed up forehead and shook his head.

'I'm so far ahead of you Jack, so far ahead. You will never catch me. Never.'

Whimpering in the background.

'Don't worry, 'that' isn't going to happen again angel. I sometimes disgust myself. Did you know that Jack? I must be human 'cause sometimes I disgust myself.'

More whimpering.

'Stand, fucking, up!' he screamed.

Two or three slaps sounded in the background.

'Hmmm, spare the rod, spoil the child. Isn't that what they say? Talking of children, how is your daughter Sophie?'

Jack's chair flew against the wall and he leapt forward. 'Fuck you, you piece of shit!' The sound of the tape reel rolling echoed in the little room, and Jack shook his finger at it as if it were the Collector himself. 'Fuck you!' Pulling his chair back towards the table, Jack steadied his breathing and lowered himself slowly into the seat.

'So, how to do it? The last one was too quick. I don't like quick Jack. Quick has no satisfaction to it.'

'Fuck,' Jack grumbled, leaning back in his chair and sweeping his fingers through his hair. 'So how to do it Jack? How? Opps. Almost forgot the most important thing!'

Rummaging could be heard in the background and mumbling sounds interjected by whimpers. 'I just had the fucking thing. Right! Got it, Jack. The most important thing. Smile for the camera! Oh, you can't. One second I'll fix that right up.'

Incoherent screams and manic laughter ring from the recorder and Jack lowers his head.

'You have to shout for Jack, Bethany. You have to shout loud and maybe he will save you. Shout to Jack, ask him. No beg for him to save you.'

Racking sobs could be heard, and the men in the interview room looked at each other with horror filled eyes.

'Plead for the pig to save you, Bitch!' he shouts in a rage. 'Shout it! Plead and beg for Jack to save you!'

A small voice, scared and frightened comes through on the tape. 'Please...'

Sob.

'Help me. Please save me...'

Sob.

'Please, I want my mommy. Mommy please help me...'

Sob.

Tears welled up in Gary's eyes. Jack clicked his fingers under his partner's face. Gary looked up and Jack pointed to his ears, then the tape. Swallowing hard, his partner nodded.

'Ask for Jack to save you, little one. Do it or I'll... what the fuck?' A loud crash banged, distorting the noise on the recorder, and the sounds of metal hitting the floor were discernible through the noise.

A new voice. 'Fuck me! I forgot how much that hurt.'

'Demons, demons sent for me!' the Collector squeals.

'Fuck me, I know you!' said the new voice. 'Put the knife down man, I know you. The game's up.'

Screams and scuffle sounds.

The girl's shrill voice could be heard. 'Kill him mister, kill him please. Kill him and get my mommy!'

More scuffle sounds and a cry of pain.

'Fucker! Demon fucker! It couldn't get me, Jack. I stuck it good, Jack. I stuck the fucker so hard it disappeared. 'You hear that you fucks?' the Collector yelled in a fit of rage, 'No one can get me!'

Metal clanged in the background, as if it'd been flung across the room.

'So Jack, back to the main event. Smile bitch.'

A click and whirring noise.

'Ah, it's a beauty Jack. It's a work of art. This one captures everything I like.'

Leaning over, Jack whispered again. 'Takes a photo of everyone he kills, the fucking sick bastard, but we haven't found any of them yet.'

'Okay, gag back on for you little Bethany.'

Muffled cries.

'Quick will have to do, Jack. It's the fear I love Jack, it's the fear that I capture. A cleaver this time I think. The killing?'

A high pitched squeal and a dull thud sound.

'The killing is the easy part. Till next time Jack. Till next time.'

Jack took a deep breath. 'Get onto the missing persons log. See if a Bethany is on it. We have to catch this son of a bitch, Gary.

Gary nodded, pushed his chair back looking all solemn, and walked out of the room.

Jack heard the sounds of him puking and didn't blame his new partner. This was the tenth tape he had listened to. They didn't get any easier.

P.S.

SHUDDER! Readers, comment-ers, and voters, what do you think of the Collector?

© Steve Ford and Joy Cronjé 2018