Free Death Day by Shaun Hutson

didn't he?'
        Kirby's voice was low, controlled, 'From the scratches on the cheeks and bridge of the nose, I'd say he tore them out with his bare hands. The fingerprints matched those of Ray Mackenzie.' Lambert tried to write down that last piece of information but, as he pressed down on the paper, the point of his pencil splintered.
        'Tom?' Kirby's voice called, 'you still there?'
        Lambert exhaled deeply, 'Yes, sorry'.
        'Did you get all that?'
        'I got it. Put Hayes back on, will you?'
        The sergeant's voice replaced that of Kirby, 'Yes sir.'
        'Get every available man out looking for Mackenzie. I want that fucking maniac caught before this happens again.' He hesitated a moment then said, 'I'll be in touch. If anything happens in the meantime, let me know.'
        He put the phone down. For long moments he stood staring at the pad, the scrawled details of the twin deaths.
         Eyes torn out.
        Lambert threw the pad down and crossed to the cabinet beside the bay window. He pulled it open and took out a bottle of scotch. He poured indiscriminately, filling the tumbler practically to the brim, then he swallowed half its contents, wincing as the amber liquid burned its way to his stomach. He held the glass, considering it in his hand, then he drained it. Rapidly refilling the crystal tumbler, he wondered how many more of them he'd need before Debbie got home.
        She found him sitting in the darkness, only the light from the streetlamp outside illuminating his dark outline. He sat still, the glass still clamped in his hand, staring out of the window, scarcely turning when she entered the room and flicked on the table lamp. The room was suddenly alive with subdued light, changing from the drab place of darkness it had been a second ago into a warm grotto.
        He smiled at her.
        'Tom, what's the matter?' she asked, crossing to him. Immediately she smelt the drink on his breath.
        He lifted the glass in salute and swallowed its contents before setting it down gently on the carpet beside his chair.
        'Would you like a drink?' he asked. 'There's plenty more where that came from.'
        She took hold of his hand. 'What's wrong?' she repeated.
        He looked at her, his smile fading. 'Last night, two people were murdered. A woman and a little girl. Do you know how old that little girl was? Five. Only five years old. They were stabbed and then their eyes were torn out. Bodily.'
        Debbie shuddered, 'Oh my God.'
        'The crazy bastard who did it is still on the loose.'
        They looked at each other, their eyes probing, searching the other's for some sign.
        'I'm going back, Debbie,' said Lambert, flatly. He reached out and stroked her cheek, noticing the moisture building within her eyes. She gripped his hand and pressed it to her face, kissing it.
        'Tom,' she said, a tear running down her cheek, 'I just want you to be all right. This business with Mike, it's torn you apart and now this on top of it. Please, give it a couple more days, they can manage for a couple more days.' Tears were flowing quickly now and he reached out and brushed them aside.
        'I'll be all right,' he said. 'They need me. If this bastard did it once, he might do it again. I can't let that happen. I have responsibilities. I'm supposed to be the law here.'
        She stood up, suddenly angry, 'Oh, for Christ sake, you-make it sound like a bloody Western. The law. Your responsibilities. You don't have to carry the can for everything, Tom. Not for every bloody cause going. You don't have to feel guilty about all the things you do. You'll be telling me next it was your fault those two people were murdered.' She wiped away the tears, rubbing her eyes when they clouded her vision. 'You know I think you actually enjoy it at times. Being the bloody martyr, shouldering the troubles of the world.'
        He watched her, standing