Nails

By K. J. Sargeant

Jessie Clarke is about to find herself in the closest place to hell, at the mercy of a sadistic killer. Her disappearance triggers a police investigation which reaches back decades as the team of detectives are joined by Amanda Kaidy, a powerful clairvoyant. Can the team get to Jessie before the torture and abuse becomes too much to survive? What other gruesome discoveries will they make along the way? Nails is a brutal, unflinching mix of paranormal thriller and serial killer horror that will have you gripped from the start.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Cape Publishing
• Release date: Apr 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201819507

Book preview

NAILS

K.J. Sargeant

DO IT!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 Red Cape Publishing

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Red Cape Graphic Design

www.redcapepublishing.com/red-cape-graphic-design

Chapter 1

Fenton Carslake’s blind date wore a carnation for their rendezvous, pinned it to a scarf and waited under the clocktower as agreed. Fenton’s own blossom, wet and torn, lay in the gutter between the kerb and front tyre of his Honda Civic and as he steered away, tiny petals of white disappeared into the tread. After a while, he looked at her scarf with its flower and wondered why he felt so jumpy. Then, at a red light, his awkward attempt at conversation was met with silence. Feeling frustrated at her reluctance, he asked if she was okay. Still nothing.

Fenton’s hands were muscular with prominent veins and, apart from ten white knuckles, totally covered in black hair. Peeling one hand from the steering wheel, he snatched up the scarf and its wilted flower fell to the passenger seat. Then, tossing it to the back, he glanced in his rear-view mirror. The plaid fabric had caught on one of the head rests without a sound but the noises coming from the boot startled Fenton so much that he nearly sideswiped a taxi and even he was surprised at his next words, which he thought quite eloquent.

Now, now, Jessie, be nice to me, he whispered.

And all was quiet in the back.

Chapter 2

Nathan Maguire’s speed on the uneven track was way too fast, but he hated being late. If he did buy the cabinet, he'd have to be careful on the way back. The Volvo estate smoothed out some of the ruts as it went but occasional tree roots breaking the surface along the lane really tested the resolve of both Nathan and his old 4x4. When at last he glimpsed Key Cottage, it was at the end of a birch-lined avenue and coincided with the track becoming as flat as a bowling green. Morning sun still hadn't cleared the house’s roof tiles but the Volvo’s air-con had been blasting on ‘ICE’ since leaving Newmarket. Still, when Nathan heeled the driver’s door open, he saw a futility to the luxury estate as flies, dust and heat instantly swamped the cabin. Then, on the calmest of July days, he approached a straw-coloured lawn to the house’s left. Some pale linen hung there on several lines and when Nathan reached them, the softest breeze walked between the sheets. Faded yellow billowed against an azure sky and as one lifted, a pair of tanned feet appeared to dance across the grass. With an ankle chain on one, he watched them glide away and thought that an embossed elbow dragged a crease through the material above them. 

This morning’s sun seemed lower in the sky because Key Cottage sat astride a small hill, so when Nathan tilted his eyes the strangest silhouette show was presented to him through a procession of rippling cotton. A prancing foot flashed its grubby sole before skipping on by and, not wishing to alarm the lady, Nathan mumbled a hello that barely registered against the buffeting sheets. Her shapely outline frolicked some more, oblivious to his call, and Nathan realised that she might have been naked. He also noticed that the forest’s backdrop of tall spruce stood rigid, yet down here the washing filled out like sails on a Galleon. The sound of ruffling cotton flapped with increasing volume, mimicking a child's kite in a windswept sky at first, then imaginary rigging whipped and cracked as a swollen armada of sails undulated on the grassy ocean. Strengthening every second, the roar deafened him as he tugged at a hemmed edge and ducked under the wooden prop. Averting his eyes as he introduced himself, he saw that the patchy grass was dotted with dandelions. Silence surrounded him now and he reached out to a motionless sheet with its silhouette but was alone, not for the strongest scent of lavender and that could have been the washing.

Half blinded every time he brushed a cover out of his way, sunlight burst off the house’s whitewashed boards and a rectangle of shadow appeared through an open door, then disappeared as he found himself behind more linen. The empty doorway appeared again, then it was gone as a third sheet blocked his path, and a fourth, and a fifth. By the sixth and seventh, Nathan's uneasiness threatened to engulf him and at the ninth he wondered if this could be what purgatory felt like. Fortunately, the tunnel of cotton ended before another materialised and a rustic porch looked down on him, as did the mysterious lady and her ankle jewellery. This time a thin dress covered the woman’s modesty and some sort of wolf hound stood by her. The animal’s low growl seemed to resonate beneath its huge paws. Building deeply from inside the earth, it rumbled under Nathan’s feet and he nearly stood to attention at the woman's commanding voice.

Enough Bracken, she ordered and the beast, as black as soot, lay down. 

Nathan spoke again.

Sorry, didn't mean to intrude, I'm here about the Mouseman. He showed her a piece of paper.

The cabinet, yes Richard said you'd be com’n by.

Her rich Cornish accent flooded Nathan's head with images of secret coves and tales of smugglers. Then, while he reminisced about childhood holidays in Penzance, she turned and faded towards a dark interior. 

Curm on in Nathan, I’ll fix us a drink. Her lazy tones were welcoming and a coolness inside the passage surprised him when he stepped past Bracken and called after her.

My name…you knew my name. He was positive that he'd only said Maguire on his meeting with Richard Kaidy.

Lucky guess I s’pose, she answered.

Following the voice down a dim hallway, not quite able to see her, Nathan entered a bright kitchen and found the woman filling a glass pitcher with ice. A heavy wooden table dominated the space and she’d hitched herself against it, offering him a glass.

I'm Amanda. Here, you look thirsty. She poured the orange drink and he took a sip; it was cold and sweet.

Nathan Maguire, but you knew that, he quipped.

Miss Kaidy’s eyes lowered until their stare settled on Nathan’s scuffed Nikes, and when he grabbed a chance to sneak a look at her, the phrase well stacked came to mind. Amanda Kaidy was quite a handsome woman, he decided. Not pretty in the formal sense, but a beauty for sure. Her eyes, dark and piercing, returned to his.

You are heavy. She announced it so casually that Nathan thought he'd misheard the lady. 

I beg your pardon? he replied, his brow furrowed.

I weighed you at the door Mr Maguire. We all carry weight young man, and in the end the heaviness of all our histories take their toll.

She's good, he thought to himself, straining to keep his eyes above her neckline while she delivered the money shot.

Then, as on a sinking ship, we must shed some of that burden, or risk going under.

Nathan felt the beginning of a smile at the edge of his mouth but held it there.

Oh, is that right? he replied, slightly unnerved by her eye contact. 

Not a physical thing, you understand, but you have brought more than most into my home today.

Nathan saw a sincerity in those almond shaped eyes and decided it would be impolite not to play along.

Go on then, what’s in store for me? 

He’d challenged her and when she folded her bare arms, Nathan thought of old black and whites showing fish wives at Newhaven. 

I see you outside, you are leaving.

She was on a roll now, but Nathan enjoyed games. 

And you? he replied, seeing her gaze at the ceiling.

I watch from a window. Nathan’s eyebrows were blonde with a few greys, like his untidy fringe, and he raised one.

Amazing, he countered. The sarcasm didn't go unnoticed.

Ah, but it’s midnight. She trumped him.

Beads of perspiration had formed next to a silver cross at her neck and as she breathed, Nathan tracked their path down to where the flesh softened. Then, hesitating at his next words because she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat, Nathan’s voice cracked.

Woah there lady, this is getting a little intense, don't you think?

She smiled at him while wiping her fingers on thighs that the table’s edge brought the best out of.

Only teasing, Mr Maguire.

Nathan decided that her hands were too big and felt his groin stir as they lingered too long where the top of her legs made a triangle.

Wait here, I'll go look in Richard’s workshop, she told him, pushing away from the table.

Chapter 3

A few drops of coffee spilt as Grace put her cup down and pooled across the newspaper’s headline. As the page darkened, she read the words for the tenth time that morning.

POLICEWOMAN SURVIVES KIDNAP- GRUESOME END FOR MADMAN. 

The smaller print acclaimed DC Grace Buchanan a heroine and she sneered at it while filing the free paper with yesterday's lasagne. 

Grace didn't do breakfast as a rule, but this morning for some unknown reason she'd made some toast and managed not to burn it. After buttering a piece, she used the knife again to open her parcel. Apparently, there was some party she’d better show up for on Saturday and the words thank God for ‘Next day’ came to mind as she tore at the bag. The dress was black and little, and Grace wondered if it was appropriate for a retirement party. She had no idea whose, but Maddox would be there, and she was looking forward to seeing her governor finally let his hair down.

Chapter 4

When George Carslake died and left the family business to his son, the first thing Fenton did as soon as his father was cold, was to sell off the mechanic’s tools and make sure that a yellow pages advert was cancelled. Then, after ripping down a hand painted sign over some antiquated double doors, he filled the space with everything in life that he valued. To Fenton, that meant hundreds of painter’s canvases stacked against the three grey walls, some eight or nine deep. A few were blank but most were not, and all were cherished beyond reason. Above them, a dirty skylight helped brighten the dingy space by day and a dozen easels with their boards littered the untidy concrete floor. His dad's old workbench survived the rout, standing near a redundant service pit as an unwanted reminder of days that Fenton would rather forget and in that hidden store, lay more of the man’s endeavours.

The garage doors, still visible in the twilight, were grey as well and both possessed a small window. Each had been clumsily sprayed over in black, without the use of masking tape and where the paint ran on the right hand one, it had found a groove and streaked nearly all the way to the floor. An iron rod that slotted into the concrete tethered that side securely but didn't prevent it from shuddering when the other door quietly swung inwards. It came to rest against two large portraits and Fenton’s army of easels suddenly danced a macabre ballet, all brought to life by the Honda’s headlights.

Tonight’s blind date wasn't Carslake’s first and as he sprung the boot lid, experience made him take a short stride backwards. Sometimes, with experience comes wisdom and the car jack just missed his shoulder on its way past. Unperturbed, he stared pokerfaced at the woman and saw rage in those features at first, then stepping nearer he thought her eyes flashed a look of defeat. When terror took over them, the man smiled, stooping slightly, and his massive bulk crowded out any feelings of hope left in the poor girl. Finally, he punched Jessie in that pretty face with a fist nearly the size of her head and the woman slumped back to a place that she wouldn't see again until the next day.

Chapter 5

Amanda Kaidy came to Nathan that night and left the boy high but not dry. As she undressed for him, he viewed the performance from the bed while his Nite watch lay on the new cabinet and displayed 02:31. Not sure who was enjoying it most, he pushed the duvet to his waist, leant on an elbow and took in the exotic show. Her gown, a vivid crimson, turned almost black on the dark side of a lamp’s glow and only needed untying at the neck to let it slip