Page 56 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“There’s more to life than work, Dr Lyons.” She adjusted her glasses before trotting back toward the open-plan office with her bowl of cereal.

Kenny rubbed his tired eyes, waiting for the kettle to boil. Therewasmore to life than work. And he’d tasted it once. Last weekend. A fleeting moment of something real. Then had it ripped away again, leaving him with the familiar certainty that the only thing he truly understood was criminality. Because romance eluded him. But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? The only certainty—death and taxes. Of which, he came across both far too often.

He carried his coffee back to his office, the faint buzz of caffeine barely cutting through his fatigue. By the time he sat down, his laptop had finally logged onto the university network, and he slipped on his glasses, preparing to tackle the onslaught of Monday morning emails.

Except this wasn’t normal.

Hundreds of unread emails clogged his inbox, and his Teams messages were overflowing. He blinked at the screen. Surely he’d cleared most of these over the weekend? Rolling his chair back, he slanted toward the open doorway. “Gail! Is there a problem with IT today?”

“Not that I know of,” she called back between a spoonful of cereal.

“Is there some kind of disaster I should know about then? Before I dive into these emails? Something I’ve missed? That I can remain ignorant of if I shut the laptop now?”

Gail shrugged, mouth full, and gave him a nonchalant wave.

Sighing, Kenny rolled himself back under the desk andopened the first email at the top of the pile, immediately catching on the subject line:

Request for Comment: Ryston Gazette Article on Child A.

His stomach dropped.

Child A?

“What the…?”

He skimmed the email, snagging on the words chilling him to the core:Child A. Howell. Campus Murders.Scrolling further, he found an attached link to a social media video posted by theRyston Gazetteand embedded with the same title. Kenny hesitated, gut sinking, but curiosity and dread compelled him to click play. The video filled his screen, the frame opening on Taylor.Aaron’sTaylor. Walking along the Ryston River, fog clinging to the air like a ghostly veil, shrouding the background in a heavy, ominous stillness. But it wasn’t the production value or Taylor’s practiced confidence freezing Kenny’s breath. It was the words spilling from his mouth as the title scrolled across the screen beneath him:The Howell Legacy: Is Child A Behind the Ryston Murders?

“A series of chilling, unexplained deaths at Ryston has left both authorities and the community grappling for answers.” Taylor’s footsteps crunched over the gravel path. “But one theory casts a sinister shadow. Could these deaths be tied to the dark legacy of Ryston’s most infamous serial killers, Frank and Roisin Howell?”

Taylor moved closer to the camera, expression sombre, but his eyes alive with the calculated energy of a performer. Or a journalist with a breaking story that would tear this town apart. “More than a decade ago, the Howells shocked the nation with their spree of brutal murders, leaving an indelible scar on Ryston. While their crimes were meticulously documented, one detail has remained shrouded in secrecy: they had a child, known only asChild A.”

Kenny’s heart thudded painfully as mugshots of Frank andRoisin Howell appeared on the screen, Taylor’s voice-over continuing as the images dissolved back onto his face.

“After their arrest, Child A vanished into the care system, identity protected by court orders. This very newspaper has been digging into where, as we believe it’s in the public’s interest to know where they are, especially those from this area who remember the harrowing ordeal and the horrific terror which enveloped the town before the Howell’s were arrested and their murderous reign ended. And now, disturbing whispers suggest that Child A has resurfaced. Right here at Ryston University. And this child may be connected to the recent spate of deaths.”

The camera cut to a wide shot of the university gates before panning back to Taylor, now hovering by the riverbank.

“Let’s examine the facts.” Taylor crouched dramatically and the screen shifted to show a photograph of Rahul Mishra, one of last year’s victims, overlaid with a caption detailing his name and the town’stragic loss.

“Last year, a first-year student died under mysterious circumstances.” The camera panned to a makeshift memorial of wilted flowers. “Linked directly to the Howells, Rahul Mishra’s murder has opened up questions we should have all been asking: why reappear after a decade of silence?”

The camera cut back to Taylor standing, his expression grave. “One chilling possibility: Child A, now an adult, has returned to Ryston University to continue their parents’ twisted legacy. If my calculations are correct, Child A would be in their twenties. A prime age to reemerge here, at university.”

Kenny rolled his chair back instinctively, bile burning the back of his throat as Taylor moved through different scenes: Wilton village, where the Howells’ manor once stood; the derelict grounds, now overgrown and haunting in their decay.

“But the deaths haven’t stopped,” Taylor said to the screen, tone lowering to an ominous timbre. “Rahul’s killer might bebehind bars, yet the murders persist. Connie Bishop, a young netballer in her prime, also met her end not so long ago.”

Taylor gestured to the ruins, now a backdrop to his sinister theory, and the screen then cut to him walking through the university library, weaving through shelves lined with psychology texts.

“Reports indicate that isolation, neglect, and exposure to unspeakable horrors marked Child A’s early years.” Taylor pulled a book from the shelf. “Research into similar cases suggests such trauma can manifest in fractured, even violent behaviour in adulthood.”

The camera zoomed in on the book’s title:The Psychology of Murder by Dr K Lyons,as Taylor flipped through the pages, brow furrowing as if he could understand or comprehend any of what was in there. “Dr Kenneth Lyons, Ryston University’s very own Associate Professor of Forensic Psychology and the criminal psychologist who helped profile Frank and Roisin Howell, has written extensively on the psychology of trauma and violence.”

“Jesus Christ.” Kenny rubbed his eyes under his glasses as if he could rub all this utter nonsense away.

The video cut to its conclusion: Taylor by the river, mist swirling around him like a scene from a gothic horror. “Though no official statements confirm a link between Child A and these deaths, the psychological profile fits alarmingly well. Could a childhood overshadowed by murder and anarchism have shaped Child A into a killer themselves? Or is this theory a dangerous distraction from the real perpetrator?

“Ryston deserves answers. If you suspect you know who Child A is, or if you have information about these tragic incidents, come forward. Our community has already suffered too much, and the truth must come out.”

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