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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2081239-Who-Could-Tell
by Angel
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #2081239
A Man has a story to tell from his past.
Every morning it was the same thing for Martin Hedges. He'd put on a pot of coffee and get dressed as he waited for the coffee to brew. But, today things would be different. He wasn't heading to work as he normally did; he was heading for the police station.

Martin had been working for the same company for ten years now, doing the same job, except for one promotion, which only added to his workload, and added very little to his wages. He'd signed in sick for a couple of days because he wasn't sure how long this was going to take. There was, of course, the possibility he wasn't going to have a job once people found out what he was revealing today.

Once he'd finished in the shower and got dressed, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat down to drink it and read the paper. However, he couldn't really concentrate on the words in front of him. It was an article in this newspaper that first made him realise he had to do something; he'd had suspicions for so long, now he realised they were true. How can you tell someone a suspicion that is so outrageous, a gut feeling; why would anyone believe you, after all, the only things you know were from when you were so young.

A week ago, he saw the picture, in the paper, asking if anyone recognised this woman, the sort of picture that is often shown of missing people. This was different; they had found a body, beneath a house. The people who lived there had been renovating it; as they dug foundations for a new extension, they unearthed her. The appeal had eventually gone out because the police had had no luck in tracing this woman. Martin, that morning had nearly dropped his coffee, Eleanor, surely not, it couldn't have been; she left to go abroad, his father told him. She had been his nanny after his mum left.

Martin's mum walked out on him and his dad one day, no note, no goodbye, no clue as to where she went. Martin had asked about her, he remembered, he was only nine, how could he not remember, he was bereft; he never could understand how his mum could just walk out on them. What had he done to make her leave, he of course never figured out what made her go. His dad had to work to keep a roof over both their heads, now there was just the two of them, so he hired Eleanor; however, like his mum, she too just walked away, this time, though, his dad told him she'd gone abroad. Martin believed him, even though as he got older, there were certain things about his father that made him uneasy. They weren't things you could put your finger on just feelings; the day he saw the picture of Eleanor however, those feelings came to the surface, suspicions, awful thoughts, crazy ideas went through his mind until it all came into a kind of order and dropped into place. He knew what he had to do.

He had phoned the number given in the paper and explained who he was, and who he thought the woman was. They transferred his call to the detective dealing with the case and slowly Martin explained that he believed that his father might have killed not only this woman but maybe his mother too. Detective Anders asked him to come into the station to make a statement; so today was the day when he would tell someone that his father could possibly be a serial killer.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2081239-Who-Could-Tell