One by One Read Online Free Page A
Author: Simon Kernick
pointing.
Marla made a long moaning sound that seemed to come from deep within her. Luke let out an almost childlike cry and began to retch.
I simply stood stock-still, unable to react in any way at all.
Perched up on an otherwise empty shelf that ran the length of a far wall, like a grisly trophy, was Louiseâs freshly severed head.
7
Her eyes were open and staring vacantly into space, her long, wavy blonde hair flowing down on either side of the pale, lifeless face. When weâd wrapped her body in the sheet, her hair had been tied in a ponytail, which meant that the killer must have untied it in yet another act of defilement. There was something in her mouth too. A rolled-up piece of paper sticking out like an oversized cigarette.
Marla ran out of the boathouse sobbing while Luke fell to his knees with his head in his hands. It sounded like he was crying too.
I could feel myself shaking as I tried to compute the full ramifications of what I was seeing. Someone on this island had not only murdered Louise but had deliberately and carefully chopped the head from the corpse and left it in a place that we would see it. To be the target of such hatred is a terrifying prospect at the best of times. But when you know youâre trapped and that it could be your murder next, itâs a thousand times worse.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Crispin watching me with something like sympathy in his eyes. He said something but it sounded faint and far away and I couldnât make out the words.
Finally, he moved the torch light away from Louiseâs head then, as I watched, he walked slowly over and gently removed the rolled up piece of paper from her mouth. Turning away, he put an arm on my shoulder and I didnât resist as he led me outside, telling Luke to follow.
When we were all back on the beach and Luke had shut the doors, Crispin unrolled the paper and flattened it with his hands. I watched him carefully. He looked scared but nothing like as scared as the rest of us, and I was surprised by his ability to stay calm under such pressure. Iâd always had him down as the most sensitive and vulnerable of all of us, yet he was now undoubtedly the man in charge.
âWhat does it say?â I asked, speaking for the first time since Iâd seen what had been done to Louise, my voice weak and close to cracking.
Crispin didnât answer so I asked the question again, louder this time.
Marla, whoâd been pacing up and down a few yards away, stopped and glared at him. âCome on, Cris,â she said. âTell us.â
He swallowed audibly, and for a moment he looked like he might lose it. But then he seemed to compose himself. âI donât think you want to read it.â
âGive it to me,â I said, knowing I had to see what was written there, however grim it was. He handed it over.
It was a simple, made-up poem typed out in block capitals.
Six devastating lines that sounded like my worst nightmare.
JUSTICE EVENTUALLY COMES TO ALL,
AND NOW ONE BY ONE THEY FALL.
LEAVING THE VERY WORST TILL LAST,
AS THEY PAY FOR THE SINS OF A DISTANT PAST.
MY KNIFE IS SHARP, BLOODY AND TRUE,
AND VERY SOON IT WILL COME FOR YOU.
The page shook violently in my hand and it was Marla who took it from me. I heard her curse as she read it too but I was already turning away and walking rapidly down the beach, ignoring the shouts of the others.
I broke into a run, sobbing as all the emotions that had been swirling round me these past hours â these past weeks, indeed these past years â suddenly erupted within me. As I reached the empty jetty, I jumped on to it and sprinted right to the end, thinking for a moment of throwing myself into the sea, going under, and never surfacing again.
But I stopped myself, the need for self-preservation still too strong to let go entirely, and stared down at the eddying grey water. In front of me the mainland was close enough to make out clearly â a
Marla made a long moaning sound that seemed to come from deep within her. Luke let out an almost childlike cry and began to retch.
I simply stood stock-still, unable to react in any way at all.
Perched up on an otherwise empty shelf that ran the length of a far wall, like a grisly trophy, was Louiseâs freshly severed head.
7
Her eyes were open and staring vacantly into space, her long, wavy blonde hair flowing down on either side of the pale, lifeless face. When weâd wrapped her body in the sheet, her hair had been tied in a ponytail, which meant that the killer must have untied it in yet another act of defilement. There was something in her mouth too. A rolled-up piece of paper sticking out like an oversized cigarette.
Marla ran out of the boathouse sobbing while Luke fell to his knees with his head in his hands. It sounded like he was crying too.
I could feel myself shaking as I tried to compute the full ramifications of what I was seeing. Someone on this island had not only murdered Louise but had deliberately and carefully chopped the head from the corpse and left it in a place that we would see it. To be the target of such hatred is a terrifying prospect at the best of times. But when you know youâre trapped and that it could be your murder next, itâs a thousand times worse.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Crispin watching me with something like sympathy in his eyes. He said something but it sounded faint and far away and I couldnât make out the words.
Finally, he moved the torch light away from Louiseâs head then, as I watched, he walked slowly over and gently removed the rolled up piece of paper from her mouth. Turning away, he put an arm on my shoulder and I didnât resist as he led me outside, telling Luke to follow.
When we were all back on the beach and Luke had shut the doors, Crispin unrolled the paper and flattened it with his hands. I watched him carefully. He looked scared but nothing like as scared as the rest of us, and I was surprised by his ability to stay calm under such pressure. Iâd always had him down as the most sensitive and vulnerable of all of us, yet he was now undoubtedly the man in charge.
âWhat does it say?â I asked, speaking for the first time since Iâd seen what had been done to Louise, my voice weak and close to cracking.
Crispin didnât answer so I asked the question again, louder this time.
Marla, whoâd been pacing up and down a few yards away, stopped and glared at him. âCome on, Cris,â she said. âTell us.â
He swallowed audibly, and for a moment he looked like he might lose it. But then he seemed to compose himself. âI donât think you want to read it.â
âGive it to me,â I said, knowing I had to see what was written there, however grim it was. He handed it over.
It was a simple, made-up poem typed out in block capitals.
Six devastating lines that sounded like my worst nightmare.
JUSTICE EVENTUALLY COMES TO ALL,
AND NOW ONE BY ONE THEY FALL.
LEAVING THE VERY WORST TILL LAST,
AS THEY PAY FOR THE SINS OF A DISTANT PAST.
MY KNIFE IS SHARP, BLOODY AND TRUE,
AND VERY SOON IT WILL COME FOR YOU.
The page shook violently in my hand and it was Marla who took it from me. I heard her curse as she read it too but I was already turning away and walking rapidly down the beach, ignoring the shouts of the others.
I broke into a run, sobbing as all the emotions that had been swirling round me these past hours â these past weeks, indeed these past years â suddenly erupted within me. As I reached the empty jetty, I jumped on to it and sprinted right to the end, thinking for a moment of throwing myself into the sea, going under, and never surfacing again.
But I stopped myself, the need for self-preservation still too strong to let go entirely, and stared down at the eddying grey water. In front of me the mainland was close enough to make out clearly â a