“Okay, one last time. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how trivial it might be.”
“Fine. But this is the fifth time, I don’t know why I have to keep doing this.” Joe shakes his head and sighs. The police haven’t been forthcoming with information, why should he continue to be.
“I am a night watchman. I sit in a dark room and monitor the surveillance cameras in and around the train station.
It’s an easy job, just stare at the screens, and call you guys if I see something suspicious. Hell, I’ve slept through entire shifts before and my boss has no idea. Nothing ever happens, a damn monkey could do it.
So, anyway, the guy came onto platform nine about nine o’clock.
He looked just like me, probably what caught my eye.
I didn’t pay him much more attention than that, until he started looking directly into the camera.
He had stopped perfectly dead centre of the camera’s field. As if he knew exactly where it was pointing. You can’t even see the camera, it’s a dot on a wall, like, thirty metres away.”
Joe pauses. Replaying the events in his mind, nothing made sense.
“He began Mimicking my movements,
I scratched my face, he scratched his face, I ran my hand through my hair he did the same.
Initially I thought that it was a coincidence but the minutes ticked by and and it kept happening.
I was kind of freaked out, I grabbed my smokes, I’ve had about fifty since then.
Anyway, I looked back and he was holding a lit match up to the camera. Fucking freaky.
He stared back at me for three hours, didn’t leave.”
Joe shakes his head, like it could somehow magically Etch A Sketch the rest of the story out of his mind, before continuing his recollection of the horrific events.
“My wife, Carol comes home around midnight, she’s a nurse. I saw her get off the train on the same platform, it was hard not to, she was the only passenger getting off.”
Joe stops again. He doesn’t want to relive this, he doesn’t want to say the words again, it makes them more real with each recounting. He steadies his shaking hands by pressing them against the cold metal interview table and starts talking through clenched teeth.
“He ripped out her throat. With his bare hands. I watched as she dropped to her knees grabbing at the hole in her neck. I’ll never forget how wide her eyes were, they’d rolled back in her head, pure white, pure fucking terror.
That fucker waved it at the camera and then used like it was a pen. Blood was everywhere.
He wrote, ‘Goodnight Joe’, right there on the platform. By the time I called you guys I couldn’t see him on any of the cameras. I ran down there but the place was deserted. No freak, no body, no blood, nothing.” Joe trails off and becomes silent, staring at the two way mirror as if lost in thought.
The detectives look at one another, it’s been a long night and this guy isn’t giving them what need.
“Okay Joe, well if you’re sticking with that story. That’s fine.
We checked and you’re right, there’s nothing there. No body, no blood, just like you said.”
“So, my wife is okay?” He asks hopefully.
“No your wife is missing. We’ve seen the footage. It’s like you said, a man who looks exactly like you, staring at the camera then killing your wife and writing your name. Then it cuts out.” The detective pauses to read Joe’s face but there’s nothing there.
“You said something that stuck with me. You can sleep through your shift and your boss wouldn’t even know. So there’s no proof you were even in the security room at all. Do you maybe want to tell us your story again?”