But it was Joe Kennedy that testified to the fact that he never saw Lightman run out of the barn. He claimed to have driven up to the shed, jumped out of his car and ran straight inside, running into me as he did, and neither of us had seen Lightman up to that point. Lightman’s lawyer had pointed out that Joe Kennedy had been acting out of panic himself and probably wouldn’t have noticed Lightman even if he was really there. He had been far too panicked and totally focused on reaching his little girl, so his testimony proved to be unreliable due to his presence of mind.
I had spent a total of five years on the police force. The first 18 months or so had been in Melbourne for my initial training and then on to one of the suburban stations. I think it was late in 1933 that the request came through for me to be transferred to Cider Hill police station due to an increase in duties at that watch house. During my time there, I had witnessed things no person should ever have to see in a lifetime. The Devil’s victims had remained with me in nightmares for years to come, their faces permanently etched into my memories. What made the whole thing even more terrifying was the 1% of doubt that still lingered to this day, the horrifying thought that we had indeed, locked the wrong man up and the real Devil was still roaming the land, ready to begin a new nightmare.
Once the sensationalism had finished in the media and life had returned to some form of normality, I had made the decision to quit the police force. I had no real sense of direction, or any plans that I wanted to pursue so spent the first six months travelling around the country, taking in all it had to show me. But part of me remained forever in Cider Hill, the horror firmly etched in my subconscious. No matter how far I travelled each day, Cider Hill returned to my dreams each night, and each night I would wake to a scream trapped in my throat, the sheets soaking with my sweat.
Eventually I had reached Townsville in Queensland, 1936 coming to a close. I had planned to return briefly to Melbourne and spend Christmas with my Mum, but once I returned to the relative comfort of my childhood home, didn’t want to leave. It was as if I had returned to the one place that I truly felt safe. The weeks turned into months and eventually, I decided to attend university to study psychiatry. My choice of campus had been the University of Melbourne as my mother had graduated from there herself. The next eight years were spent diving head first into books and learning everything I could get my hands on. I devoured each phase of my doctorate and eventually graduated with honours in 1945. I did try to enlist when called upon in early 1940, but due to a heart murmur was declined. This left me to study and when I finally graduated, was accepted to the Sisters of Charity Health Service, a hospital that was situated in Fitzroy. Although interesting, I didn’t find my calling, and so within the year, opened my own practice two streets away. While I saw patients during the day, it was the writing I did during the late evenings that would eventually lead me to the financial freedom I was seeking. With my first book, Catching Lucifer, hitting the best seller list within three months, I gained worldwide attention, and an audience keen for a second helping, Nightmares Unhinged, which was released just nine months later. With the money now coming in at a steady pace, I reduced my working days to just three per week, giving me plenty of time to write, and try to reclaim a life I felt I had lost.
But throughout everything, that tiny 1% continued to linger, to float deep down in my subconscious, only to be ripped out from its hiding spot some twenty years after leaving Cider Hill. Now, sitting here before him, I wondered whether the nightmare ever truly left me, or like a predator stalking its victim, had been watching and waiting for the time to strike, when the horror would once again, stalk this land.
6.
“Jim?” Steph brought me back to the moment, her hand squeezing my arm. They were both sitting and staring at me, Lightman’s lungs still rasping.
“Sorry, yes. I’m good,” I said, trying to sound balanced, something I certainly wasn’t feeling.
“Did you have… any more questions… for me, James?” He sounded almost cocky to me, his eyes never leaving mine. It was as if he was trying to find any sign of guilt on my face. Something that said “Hey Harry, I’m sorry. Maybe I did fuck up.” The problem was, I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt.
“No, thank you. Not right now. Thank you for your time.” I stood, offered him my hand which he took with both of his, his touch cold and leathery. I winced at the thought of what those hands had done and wanted to pull back instantly. The door opened as the guard entered.
“No touching. Please refrain yourself, Sir.” He sounded pissed, and I pulled my hand back as he went around to Lightman’s side, a bunch of keys in his hand. Another guard
