Page 11 of Beyond the Darkness (Basic Instincts #3)

Bad News

Hudson hadn’t quite got his head around the fact that one of Luke’s favourites movies was Red Hills Massacre.

The cheap piece-of-shit horror film he’d made more than twenty years ago.

The same movie that was also popular with Robbie Wiseman, his British stalker.

What the fuck was that all about? How can anyone seriously be a fan of such crap?

Even so, he was happy when his phone rang on Friday afternoon and Luke’s name flashed on the caller ID.

It had been a soulless twenty-four hours.

Despite his best intention to get out and explore the city, he’d been holed up in the apartment since he’d left Jo at the hotel the day before.

There were still a couple of photographers hanging around outside and his phone had been lighting up with calls and messages from people he hadn’t talked to in years.

Hudson had been in no mood to socialise.

Thankfully, there was a gym on the corner, and he’d been able to sneak out past the press guys in a hasty disguise and fit in a decent two-hour workout that morning.

By the time he got back upstairs, showered, dressed and cooked himself a light lunch of tuna steak and couscous, he was feeling more affable.

Luke’s call came at just the right time.

“Hi,” he said, genuinely pleased to hear from him. “How’s it going?”

“Better now I’m speaking to you. More importantly, how are you doing?” That lovely accent was like fine whisky, having an instant, warming effect. Any uncertainties he’d had about Luke vanished at the sound of it.

“Meh. Not sure I even want to go there. But it’s nice to hear from you.”

“I guess you’ve had a lot to deal with.”

“No shit. I take it you’ve heard the latest. That the show is going ahead.”

“I did, though Sal Morte didn’t strike me as an obvious replacement.”

“Me neither.” Hudson hadn’t even been aware that his agent also represented the Spanish actor.

He was a similar age to Hudson, so understudying him wouldn’t be a problem in that respect.

The fact that the character was American and Sal had a very heavy Spanish accent might be a bigger concern.

But as Hudson had no intention of missing a performance—all Sal needed to worry about was nailing the small role he’d been cast for.

“He’s already arrived. Rav and Andie are going to work with him over the weekend before we resume on Monday. ”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“That’s another tricky question I’m not sure I can answer just yet.”

“Fair enough.”

It really was good to talk to him again.

They had ended things on such a strange note the other night when Hudson had freaked out about Luke’s terrible taste in movies.

It seemed even stranger now, but his head had been all over the place on Wednesday.

Much of the day had been a blur that he struggled to remember with any clarity.

Trying to look back on it was like watching one of his old films. He felt a distance and disconnect from it.

“Listen,” Luke said. His voice had taken on a serious tone that Hudson was unused to. “I’ve got some news. It’s not out in public, but my colleague has told me it’s one hundred per cent legit. Are you free for a catch-up later this afternoon?”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Hmm, I can’t lie, it’s not great. But, given the circumstances, I won’t go into it over the phone. Do you want to get a drink somewhere after work and I’ll fill you in face-to-face?”

“That would be tricky. I’ve still got the paps camped outside. Wherever I meet you, they’re bound to follow.”

“I could come by your apartment, like the other night.”

“I’m getting sick of these four walls. Didn’t you say you lived somewhere on the coast? How about I meet you there and we can go for a walk along the beach instead?”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. Give your handlers the slip and I’ll pick you up at the corner of Broad Street and Salvin Road just after five.”

* * * *

It was a brilliantly clear and warm afternoon. Hudson changed into cream chino shorts and a light blue T-shirt before leaving the apartment. His moustache had gotten a little neglected, so he’d spent some time trimming and grooming. He’d started to become quite proud of the thing.

He was surprised to find that the photographers were no longer waiting on the doorstep, but hurried off anyway, in case they were only taking a break, though surely they knew by now that they would get nothing from him.

In shades and a baseball cap, he snuck down the side alley and cut through to the main road.

Luke hadn’t told him what kind of vehicle to expect. The glorious weather seemed to have triggered a mass early exodus from the city and the traffic moved at a sluggish pace.

Butterflies danced in his stomach as he waited at the kerb.

When he’d gotten off the phone with Luke earlier, he’d been intrigued to know what his news would be, but as the time came closer, he’d been more excited about seeing Luke again.

They’d ended the other night on a strange moment.

Hudson was certain he would not allow that to happen again.

He’d been standing on the street a little over five minutes when a modest grey Peugeot tooted and pulled over to the kerb. Hudson rushed forward and leapt into the passage seat, as the driver behind issued their own blast of the horn in protest.

“Hey.” Luke grinned at him sideways, easing back into the traffic lane. “Sorry, but I think I’ll be lynched if I stop here.”

“Just keep moving and do what you have to do,” Hudson said. Damn, he looked good, in a short-sleeved, open-necked shirt and light grey trousers. “Have you been in the office all day?”

Luke nodded, checking the rear-view mirror. “I would have been observing your rehearsals, so it’s given me a chance to catch up on some things I’ve been putting off.”

Hudson pulled off the baseball cap and ruffled his hair. “Will you be joining us again next week?”

“I certainly hope so. Though it might be a little busy in there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your rehearsals. The podcasters start sitting in from Monday. Unless Rav has cancelled them, but I can’t see him doing that now everyone is talking about the show.”

Hudson glanced at him, confused. “What are you talking about? Podcasters?”

“Corman Curtis and Amber Payne from the Beyond Blyham podcast.”

“What about them?”

“They’ll be there next week?”

“Since when?”

Now Luke seemed perplexed. “Since always. I’m pretty sure it was arranged around the time my access was. They’re going to put out two specials covering the last week of rehearsals and the lead-in to opening night. I thought you knew?”

“Motherfuckers,” he muttered. “I’ll kill Rav and Andie when I see them.”

“Then they didn’t tell you?”

“Just like they said nothing about you. If you hadn’t told me the night before, I’d have been as clueless then, too. They’re turning this into a fucking circus.”

“They need publicity.”

“Not anymore, they don’t. There’s isn’t a spare seat to be had for the entire run.” He clenched his fingers. He was getting angry again. None of this was Luke’s fault. It was those two assholes running the production. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

Luke took a left turn and the road in front of him was suddenly clear. He increased his speed. “I heard about the ticket sales. It’s gruesome but hardly unexpected. People naturally have a morbid curiosity.”

Hudson nodded solemnly. “I meant to say, I read your obituary on Julian. It was fantastic. Very thorough. Thanks for doing that.”

“I’m just sorry I had to write it, but people deserve to be reminded of all the great things he did. It was even picked up by a couple of the national papers.”

Luke stayed quiet a moment as he negotiated a tricky four-lane overpass and suddenly they were out of the city. The sea was visible on the horizon. Hudson hadn’t appreciated how close Blyham was to the coast.

“Julian is the reason I wanted to speak to you,” Luke said. He glanced sideways. “I’ve got some more information on the circumstances of his death.”

“Do I want to hear it?”

“Probably not, but I think you should anyway.”

Hudson tutted. “Come on then. Let’s get it over with.”

“I was speaking to a colleague on the crime desk this morning. He’s been asked not to publicise the info he’s been given.

The cops don’t want to sabotage an ongoing investigation, and for the sake of Julian’s family.

I didn’t even make the connection myself.

Not at first. Not until I saw the crime scene photographs. ”

“You saw those? Fuck. I don’t want to see them.”

“You can’t. I was only shown them on a tablet. I don’t have hard copies, but it was enough to freak me out.”

A veil of dread and oppression swirled around Hudson’s head. It seemed to push him down into the car seat. “What did you see?”

Luke paused, taking an audible breath. “You already knew he’d been stabbed, right? He’d been found in the alley, early on Wednesday morning.”

“Sure. And?”

Another long pause. “From the pictures I saw this morning, Julian’s body was arranged in a certain way. A very particular way. And it reminded me of something. Or rather someone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It reminded me of you. In particular, what happened to you in Red Hills Massacre. Julian was dressed in nothing but a pair of tight white underpants, exactly like you wore in the movie. His body appeared to be arranged in a pose that I’d swear mimics your death scene.

The police still haven’t found the rest of his clothes. There’s no trace of them.”

A strange floating sensation came over Hudson and it sounded for a moment like he was listening to Luke from underwater. “Red Hills Massacre,” he managed to say at last, incredulous.

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” Luke said, “that your own co-star should be killed in a copycat of a film you starred in.”

“It’s no coincidence. Of all the fucking films.” He noticed Luke was watching him. He cleared his throat. “I found out on Monday that someone has been sending all this bizarre mail to me, care of the theatre. Rav didn’t think I needed to know. He thought it would unsettle my performance.”

“What kind of mail?”

“The Red Hills Massacre kind. More specifically, still images of that death scene, along with cryptic, bullshit messages.”

“Where is all this stuff now? The letters and pictures.”

“Rav has them. He was going to get someone to look into it.”

“Fuck. He won’t even know of the connection yet.” Luke gripped the wheel. “I’ll turn around at the next junction. We need to get back to the theatre and hand them over to the police. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Hudson swallowed. His throat was parched. “How far is it to your house?”

“We’re nearly there. A few more minutes.”

“Keep going. Please. I need a drink. I need…a few moments to get my head around this. I’ll call Rav and Andie when we get there.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. Keep driving please.”

Luke drove onto a road that ran parallel to a wide, flat beach.

There were a dozen or so cottages dotted along the waterfront, and he pulled onto the drive of one of the houses two-thirds of the way along.

There was a small, immaculate garden behind a low stone wall.

The prettiness of the place would have astounded Hudson if he wasn’t so numb.

He noted the details without taking them in.

“Come on,” Luke said, getting out of the car.

Despite the low ceilings and small rooms, the interior of the house was surprisingly light, thanks to a patio door at the front. Luke took him through to the kitchen.

“I’ve got beer and wine, but you look like you could do with something a lot stronger.” He opened the freezer compartment and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He put ice into a short tumbler and poured the spirit on top. “Do you want a mixer?”

Hudson shook his head and accepted the drink. He took half of it in a single mouthful. Thankfully it was smooth, with no burn in the throat.

Luke put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Better?”

He nodded.

“You’re as white as a ghost.”

“I’m still processing.” He investigated Luke’s deep, dark eyes. “You’re sure about Julian’s body? You weren’t just imposing your own ideas onto the images you saw? You did say you were a fan of that movie yourself.”

“A hundred per cent sure. I could see the connection as soon as I saw the photo. Even if the killer hadn’t made the effort to stage Julian’s body in that exact position, the white underpants would have been more than a coincidence. Julian. You. The film. There’s no way it’s just a fluke.”

No. Hudson had already guessed as much. And he already had a stalker who’d proved himself to be obsessed with Red Hills Massacre. His biggest nightmare had become a reality.

“We’re better call the cops. There’s someone they need to find. And quickly. Before he does it again.”