Simon rubs his finger over a bloodshot eye. No wonder he is upset.
This is his dad he is talking about.
The monster murdered his dad, had intercourse with his corpse and then just abandoned him on the side of the road. No wonder Simon killed him. I would do the same. I consider telling Simon that he really doesn't need to say any more, that he has said enough, but I figure he wants to, that it will be a relief to tell somebody.
"So – sure - I became obsessed with finding him. I searched for clues day and night. Turned into something of a lunatic. All clues led to dead ends. My focus was on where Price was picked up from, and where the bodies were found. He was always picked up within a two-mile radius, so it was fair to assume he lived locally. But the end locations were miles apart, all in different directions. There seemed to be no link at all. But I examined these locations deeper, like only an obsessive could. The only pattern I could find was that, within three or so miles of each location, there was a pond. These ponds were remote and hidden away and you'd only ever know about them for one reason; you fished there. Something struck me; the murder weapon wasn't just wire, it was fishing line. The murderer knew these three locations because he'd fished at the ponds."
"Why didn't you tell the police your theory?"
"Why didn't you tell the police about your updates?" Simon retorts, not missing a beat. "I didn't want the son of a bitch to be caught, did I? Lock him in a cell, put a roof over his head, keep him fed. I wanted him dead. Anyway, this was where the long hours started. It was a long shot, I knew that, but it was the only shot I had. I waited for hours and days hidden away at each pond waiting for him. And, then, in the blink of an eye, there he was..."
"So you just went over and killed the bastard? Good on you..."
"No. I didn't, even though the urge to do so was overwhelming. Even I knew there was a chance this wasn't my guy. There was a chance I could be killing an innocent man, maybe a father just like my dad, merely out fishing..."
"Fishing might be boring as fuck, but it isn't a crime," I say, smiling. Simon warns away my attempt to lighten the tone with a steely glare.
"So I follow him, don't I? I find out where he lives. Fucking dive, as you'd expect. I wait for him to go out. I break in. I search for clues. I recovered his recently deleted search history on his laptop. You know what I found? Necrophilia porn. I had to put my hand to my mouth to stop from vomiting. This was my guy..."
I slam my fist down on the table. "This sick bastard watched pornography of dead people...?"
"This sick bastard had sex with dead people, so what do you expect? Of course he fucking did. Search histories give a great insight into somebody's character. This guy isn't Mary Poppins, you dumb fuck..."
I hold my hands up. I'm alarmed by the intensity of his words, but I know I deserve every single one of them fired in my direction.
"I'm sorry. It's just...well, you know? I went through his drawers and you know what I found? Photos of the dead victims. Photos of my dead dad. Can you imagine? The stupid idiot had taken photos and printed them and left them in his flat. I trashed the place, stole a few things and then made out it was a burglary. After all, I'd broken down his door to get in."
I nod; avoid eye contact. This is horrific. I fear that even I might break down.
"Then it was just a matter of waiting. I could have just killed him in his flat, but as soon as he saw me he'd know who I was, what I was there for. I wanted to toy with him. Besides, I didn't want to leave any trace. So, I waited. Kept coming back, hiding in the shadows. Days passed. Finally, I watched him put his fishing gear in his car. I followed him. Again. This time I waited a good time before I joined him on the bank of the pond..."
"You went fishing with him?"
"Yes. I was all ready. I had the gear in the car. I asked if he minded if I joined him. He mumbled that he didn't mind, but I could tell he was uncomfortable. He didn't want me anywhere near him. The guy was socially inept. Hell, I was like that Rylan Clark off the TV next to this guy. I asked if he came here often, if he knew the area. I said that my dad came here once. He was a taxi driver. And then I said his name. I watched his eyes bulge and his body tense as the penny dropped. He went to move – to run - but I was already primed. I strangled him with the same fishing line he used to kill my dad. He was found by another fisherman three days later."
I gulp. This is a lot to take in. So the bastard ran. He didn't fight. I glance at Simon,
