Heart Of A Spider - Season 1 - Episode 2

4 years ago

Heart Of A Spider - Season 1 - Episode 2

12:33am
“John, John.”

DETECTIVE SERGEANT Alan James Kendal opened his eyes. He stared intently at the
digital clock on his bedside table. What woke him? Could it have been the bright flashing green
liquid-crystal digits on the alarm clock, or could it have been either of his daughters, Tegan or
Tani, twelve and eight respectively, calling out? He focused on the last two digits on the clock.

They were flashing methodically. Both were the number ‘3.’ Why weren’t the first two digits
flashing? What did it mean? He pondered the two questions as he prepared to sit on the edge of the
bed.

“John, John.”
The voice sounded dead flat, monotonous. Kendal sat bolt upright, running his fingers
through his jet-black hair. He reached for his shoulder holster and extracted the police issue, Smith
and Wesson. When his index finger constricted on the trigger he glanced over his shoulder at his
sleeping wife, Marg. For a few seconds, he watched her sleeping. Her breathing sounded deep and
even.

“John, John.”

Quieter than a cat stalking a bird, Kendal walked down the hall towards the stairs. For a
heartbeat, he paused at both his daughter’s closed bedroom door. Satisfied they were safe and
asleep he moved on. Snoring coming from behind the third door brought his silent walk to a halt.

He felt grateful his mother-in-law didn’t hear the voice. He grinned at his memories of the
previous week.

Patrick, the psychotic arsonist burnt her house to the stumps. The fire nearly ended his life
and those of his family. He wasn’t totally happy to have the old woman living in his home, but his
family members were more than delighted. The old woman’s constant grumbling and ice-cold
stares were a complete turn-off. Fortunately, Patrick has been dethroned. The fire games he’d been
playing were extinguished for good.

“John, John.”
Kendal looked down the stairs. Raising his gun to eye level, he slowly descended. At the
bottom step, he squatted to scour the ink coloured room. Filtered light from the crescent moon
failed to break free from under the hem of the curtains. The newly broken street lamp fifty metres
down the court failed to shed light on the origin of the voice. An intruder could easily walk around
undetected in the dead of night. Surely Patrick hasn’t escaped the mental institution where he was
awaiting his trial. Kendal felt positive in eight weeks he’d be found guilty and incarcerated for
years.

“John, John.”

The voice came from his study. Kendal marched across the floor and cautiously opened the
door a tad to steal a glimpse from inside the room. A figure of a man stood at the window staring
outside. His unwrinkled suit radiated a-grey-aura. Kendal aimed his gun at the intruder’s chest
before announcing his presence by pushing the door fully open.

“Place your hands on your head and face me.”
The man’s head swiveled, then his torso. He squared himself to Kendal, pointing directly at
him. He spoke in a ghostly whisper.

“John, John.”

“I’m Detective Kendal. Who are you?”
“Who I am isn’t important.”
“What is it you want?”
“It’s imperative I clear the air. The kid who ransacked my home was a girl.”
“Can you explain further?”

“I don’t have much time. Remember, John, John.”

The pause between each of the two words sounded the same from the onset at 12:33am.