The Ghost Killer

Copyright © 2022 David Mills

First edition 2022

Published by David Mills at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by David Mills using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Lorna King for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.org

E-mail: reach@reachpublish.co.za

David Mills

david@millsgroup.co.za

Chapter 1

The morning breeze was blowing coldly as he stood staring at the animals in front of him. He could feel the crisp, cold air of the winter’s morning on his face and he smiled knowing that he was finally where he wanted to be – behind the herd. He had to backtrack a few times to get the wind in his face, and it took him the better part of the morning to accomplish that. The impala herd was in front of him now facing away from him as they grazed into the wind.

A small movement to the right of the herd got his attention, and Robert Mears focused his eyes to have a better look. Only then did he realise he was looking at an impala ram standing in the shadows of an acacia tree, the brownish colour of his skin blending in perfectly with the surrounding bush making him nearly invisible to the naked eye. The ram was nervously sniffing the air, his ears erect, listening for danger. With a keen hunter’s eye, Robert looked at his surroundings. He was standing at the edge of a natural opening and there was no cover for him except for a thorn tree about 150 metres in front of him. Robert took the rifle in his right hand and gradually went down on his hands and knees. He started to crawl slowly towards the herd keeping his eyes fixed on the ram. He was wearing sniper camouflage and the material made no sound on the ground as he moved forward inch by inch.

He heard the warning bark of an impala ewe to his left and froze immediately, lying down on the ground trying to make himself as small as possible. Minutes felt like hours before Robert decided to lift his head up slowly. The ram had turned and was now facing away from him, nostrils wide open, sniffing the air for the unseen predator. Robert started to leopard crawl – a skill he had learnt in the South African Defence Force while doing his national service – holding the rifle in both his hands and crawling on his stomach. When he reached the thorn tree without any further incident, he slowly got back on to his knees and used the branch of the tree as a rest for his rifle.

The wood of the 7mm Remington felt warm against his cheek and he got the familiar smell of gun oil in his nostrils. Robert looked through the 4x40x10 telescope and saw that the ram was grazing away from him into the wind. From experience, Robert knew he would have no luck if the ram kept feeding in that direction. He hoped the ram would change direction, or he would not be able to take the shot. I might be sitting here for a long time, Robert thought to himself.

The moment presented itself quicker than he could imagine. He heard the sound from another impala ram challenging this ram for his dominance over the herd. The ram in front of Robert reacted immediately, turning to the right and issuing his own challenge. It took Robert less than a second to get ready and place the crosshairs of the telescope on the neck of the impala ram. The rifle made a loud, blasting sound as Robert discharged the round. He heard the bullet’s soft thud as it hit the impala ram in the neck exactly where he was aiming, killing it instantly. After a few seconds, Robert stood up and walked towards the ram lying on the ground. As always, remorse came over Robert’s handsome face knowing he had to take a life; he was a true hunter and seeing this animal lying on the ground always brought a feeling of sadness to him. He knelt down, touched the ram, and said a small prayer thanking God for the opportunity he had had to hunt one of His creatures. Robert always did this after a kill; something he learnt from his uncle as he accompanied him on endless hunts on the farm in the Free State. It took Robert more than half an hour to get the ram to a road where he knew the farm owner would come to fetch him with his vehicle. While he waited, Robert took the baseball cap off his head and pulled his fingers through his dark brown hair trying to restore some order to it. Although his forearms were well-tanned, he could feel the back of his neck was hot from too much exposure to the African sun.

He could see the silhouette of Mark Coetzee as he stood upright on the back of the vehicle. Mark was his hunting buddy and best friend; they had been like that since the first day they met in high school. Mark and Robert were on a four-day hunting expedition on William Smit’s farm in Northam, nestled deep within Limpopo, a province in South Africa. This was the last day of their hunt and both of them wanted to make the most of it. As the vehicle came to a standstill Mark casually climbed from the back and walked towards Robert. He saw the ram lying in the shade of a tree and with an outstretched hand he came to congratulate Robert.

Mark was as tall as Robert and walked with the long strides of a hunter. His blonde hair was in a mess from the ride on the back of the vehicle. They quickly loaded the impala ram on to the vehicle and headed back to the camp. Breakfast was made in a hurry and consisted of liver from an impala Mark had shot the previous day, some eggs, bacon and bread. They did not waste any time and left to hunt again as soon as they had finished breakfast. It was almost one o’clock in the afternoon and Robert knew the animals would be hiding in the bush trying to get some shade from the sun. Robert came to a hill and decided to find some shade himself and wait until it was cooler to hunt.

Sitting in the shade of the tree with his back against the tree trunk gave Robert some time to clear his mind. His thoughts went back to earlier in the week when he had made a promise – a promise he intended to keep. He could still see the faces of her father and mother when he brought them the terrible news of her death. Her name was Delia and she had been a medical student at the University of Pretoria, studying to become a dentist they told him. She was a sweet, loving person who would not hurt a fly, with eyes that sparkled when she laughed.

An old man had called it in to the police station. He had found her lifeless body while taking his dog for a stroll. The constable on patrol was the first person at the scene of the crime, and he immediately contacted the Serious and Violent Crimes Unit detectives. Robert remembered the lifelessness in her eyes when they found her naked body in the bushes close to the Apies River. Her blonde hair was a mess, tangled with blood and mud from the riverbank, her young body full of marks as she tried to fight off her aggressor. The cut had been made with a very sharp knife, a small cut just under the right ear, cutting the aorta open and letting her bleed to a cruel and horrifying death. Robert had seen this twice before. Standing in the house of her parents in Pretoria North, Robert made a promise to himself that he would stop the monster who was capable of such horrific deeds. His mind was now going over the crime scene again, trying to find any trace of a clue he might have overlooked.

A noise brought him back to the present. The herd of blue wildebeest to his left were grazing peacefully, facing towards him. Every now and then one would lift his head and scan the area for any danger. Arme mans se buffel. Robert smiled as he remembered the way Mark always referred to these animals. As Robert now scanned the herd, he could see the resemblance in the curved horns that these animals had to the more aggressive and well-known Cape buffalo which had earned them the nickname of Poor man’s buffalo from Mark. As he always said, rich people hunt Cape buffalo, poor people like us have to settle for blue wildebeest. This was the closest we would ever come to hunting the real thing. Hunting a big Cape buffalo was a dream for both Mark and Robert.

Now, Robert was scanning the herd for a big bull. It was a big herd, well over 100 animals and it took all of Robert’s patience not to shoot the first bull he saw. Finally, he found what he was looking for; the bull was at the end of the herd casually grazing facing towards Robert. Slowly, Robert took a handful of dust and threw it up in the air. The dust fell straight back to the ground. There was no wind, Robert thought to himself, feeling better now that he knew the animals could not smell him. Although they were not as fierce as the Cape buffalo, those curved horns were formidable weapons which could easily hurt or even kill a man. Lying on the ground holding the rifle steady in his left hand, Robert waited for the bull to come closer.

The bullet hit the bull just above the left eye smashing into the brain and killing the animal instantly. It happened so fast that Robert did not see the bull fall down and, for an instant, he thought he had missed the target altogether. It was only when he saw the dust the animal had kicked up as his muscles started to relax that Robert knew where to find him. Looking down at the bull Robert could see that it was a truly magnificent animal, the horns easily Rowland Ward trophy size. It took the combined effort of Robert, Mark and two skinners to load the bull on to the back of the vehicle.

The fire was an orange glow in the night as Robert and Mark sat around the campfire listening to William’s hunting stories. After William had left, Robert and Mark were still sitting at the fire each of them busy with their own thoughts; so in tune with nature and each other that they didn’t need not talk to know what the other was thinking. They went to sleep in the early hours of the morning knowing that that had been the last day of their hunt.

Sunday morning came too fast for both of them and after they said their goodbyes to William, they left the farm and headed back to the city. Sadness came over Robert, the same sadness you feel when you leave a lover, knowing it would be a while before he could escape to the peace and tranquillity of the bush again. It was late in the afternoon when Mark and Robert finally reached their destination. They said their goodbyes and Mark left for his house.

Chapter 2

The offices of the Serious and Violent Crimes Unit looked like any other government building – dull, grey, and with the paint on the outside of the building peeling off. Robert greeted his colleagues quickly as he was in a hurry to get to his desk and start making good on his promise. There were a pile of notes on his table from people who he had to phone, but the one that caught his eye was from Professor White who headed up the pathology department in Pretoria and who was handling the murder case Robert was investigating. Robert dialled the number, anxious to hear news from the professor. It felt like a lifetime before the phone was finally picked up by his secretary. She advised Robert that the professor was in the mortuary busy with an autopsy and would be there for a while. Robert decided to drive to the mortuary as he knew the autopsy could take all day. The traffic in Pretoria Central was heavy and Robert’s mind was working overtime hoping, against all odds, that this time the murdering bastard had left something – a speck of blood, hair, semen or anything he could use to trace the son of a bitch.

At the mortuary he was briefly stopped by the receptionist who asked for identification. As he produced his police identification card he smiled and grimly thought that no person in their right state of mind would enter this place for fun. Before entering the operating area, he took some Lip Ice from his pocket and with his finger smeared it on his upper lip underneath his nose, knowing it would disguise the odour of decaying human bodies that was prevalent inside the mortuary. Robert was used to being around dead people, but even a hardened detective like him had to take a moment to steady himself before opening the double doors that lead to the inside of the mortuary.

The mortuary was filled with bodies that had been brought in over the weekend as autopsies were only performed on weekdays. He worked his way through the operating tables where personnel were busy with their grim task of dissecting the bodies of the deceased, before meeting up with Professor White who was busy lecturing to a class of detective students. The circular saw sounded exactly the same as the meat master which the local butcher used when cutting up meat. Professor White was busy taking off the top half of the skull on the body he was working on, exposing the brain matter and explaining the procedure to the students in front of him. One of the lady students turned and ran from the room to throw up, and Robert remembered that the same professor gave him the same introduction to the detective’s course so many years ago. Robert waited patiently for the professor to finish his lecture and then accompanied him to his office across the street from the mortuary.

Professor White took a file from his table, taking his time to flip through it, knowing that Robert was not a very patient man. But he enjoyed keeping him in suspense. We found some traces of human skin under the nails of the last victim; nothing much but we might be able to make a DNA match if you can find us the killer, Professor White informed Robert.

At least she fought back, Robert thought to himself, remembering the naked white body that was full of bruises as the killer had beaten her into submission. Thanking him for the information Robert left Professor White’s office. The smell of the mortuary was still hanging around him as he entered his office and went back to his desk to process the new information he had received.

The ringing of his telephone interrupted him as he was busy reading through one of the statements. It was Senior Superintendent Baloyi, the head of the unit, who asked him to come and see him in his office – which was normally not a good sign. He knocked on the door and waited for the reply to enter. Superintendent Baloyi was seated behind his desk, and even from this distance Robert could see the stress on his face. He had bags under his eyes from long sleepless nights, and his shoulders hung forward as if he were carrying the world on his shoulders. He’d lost a lot of weight. Robert remembered that the man sitting in front of him used to be much heavier than he was now, but as Robert offered his right hand to greet him, he still had that determined look in his eyes. It was only then that Robert noticed the other person in the room. This is Maria Visser, said Superintendent Baloyi as he introduced her to Robert. As she stood up to greet