by Ali Carter
“Before I send you to hell Charlie there’s something else you should know.” Emily smiled sardonically as she refined her aim even more perfectly; Charlotte in utter terror waited for yet another blow – and death. “Jenny and I have planned this for the last three years, that’s why she followed you to Kirkdale and had Miles back in her bed – think of that as you –” It was then that the sirens filled the air…
Harry Longbridge had kept Miles in custody for the best part of four hours. It was now eight in the evening, and when he’d told him the direction Charlotte had taken the boat, he knew she was heading for Keeper’s Cottage. What she thought she was going to do when she got there though was utterly beyond him, it had been derelict for years. Given the fact the warning text he’d sent her earlier was still on his phone, he didn’t have much choice but to be helpful – and frankly he was still reeling from the shock that his wife was suspected of being a serial killer. He was having a harder time convincing them he knew absolutely nothing, apart from as they put it, him trying to pervert the course of justice.
Harry had never suspected him of being involved from the beginning but would be making the most of his twenty-four hours holding time. However, he’d ordered three cars out to the bottom of Kirkby Pike and determined to be in the lead vehicle; he wanted that psychotic bitch in a cell before ten and him home by eleven thirty. It had been an exceedingly long and tiring day, he’d earned an early night. This thing needed to be brought to a close as soon as possible so the real work could get started for the CPS – at least that way he’d be going out with a bang for his retirement at Christmas.
Emily was not a fool. She may have wanted Charlotte sent to the depths of hell but certainly had no intentions of joining her there, even metaphorically. The minute those sirens sounded she couldn’t get out of that cottage fast enough, there would be very little time to get back up to the main road and take the left fork away in the opposite direction so as not to be seen driving away from the house. She made it by the skin of her teeth and saw the headlights of the police cars in her rear-view mirror as they turned off left behind her, and down River Bank Lane to Keeper’s Cottage and their quarry. There was only one problem that faced her now and that was if Charlotte told them how she’d got her injury – the bullet would no doubt be lodged in the wall somewhere. Well… she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.
Left behind and still stunned at what had just happened, Charlotte managed to hack the hem off her jacket with the scalpel to create a makeshift bandage. Her arm hurt badly, she was cold, out of pills only three cigarettes left and still had no car. However, the thought that Gina was Miles’ daughter and he’d been bedding Jenny again gave her more grief than her flesh wound and the rest put together.
At the sound of the sirens they’d both momentarily frozen, but with herself injured on the floor, Emily had been the one with the advantage of reaching the car. Now Charlotte was hiking it up the through the forest in the dark, in pain and absolutely no idea of what to do next. She’d managed to climb up to the thicker region of the forest’s undergrowth behind the cottage after Emily had taken off. The police had swooped down just minutes later, and from where she was hidden she could see them and the beams from their torches. This was not how she’d imagined things would pan out and Charlotte knew it wouldn’t be long before they followed her up the Pike… and they would search until they found her.
Harry was in a foul mood. The discovery of a dark, quite literally empty house lacking any utilities, with apparently no evidence of anyone having been there apart from an open front door, and what appeared to be some bloodstains against a torchlit wall, was not how he expected the evening to wrap up. With an earlier witness statement to one of the murders and one half of the perceived murder weapon in the bag, the culprit in a possible wounded condition and almost certainly without transport, should have led to an easy arrest and early knock off. Now though it looked like it could be a long night ahead, necessitating a heat-imaging crew up in the air if a preliminary scout around the hillside in the pitch bloody black didn’t flush her out.
Six officers started up Kirkby Pike each flashing a night searcher and all six were back within half an hour. Harry knew what he had to do next and it took less than twelve minutes to get the helicopter guys with thermal imaging launched and over the forest. He stood at the foot of the hill and scanned the slopes above him – There’s nowhere for you to hide now Doctor Peterson… it’s game over.
The beams from the torches had gone. From her ‘hiding place’, which was little more than a few trees closer together than some of the others, Charlotte rested a while, grateful that they seemed to have given up on her for the time being – but her arm felt wet and heavy. She was losing more blood than she first thought but with nothing in her bag to help there was very little she could do.
The coolness of the autumn evening had moved on to being a night with a real chill in the air, it was either that or she was not a well woman at all. Her eyelids began to slowly drop as she felt increasingly tired. Sat alone on that hillside in the dirt of the forest floor, Charlotte struggled to work out how she’d come to this. If only Miles had treated her better, if only Emily hadn’t betrayed her friendship with him, if only Jenny Flood hadn’t existed, if only… Her breathing became slower and heavier, she felt she could’ve slept for a month. Maybe an hour or so would help? Even just thirty minutes might give her some strength. She leant back against a tree, her breathing laboured, her arm pounded and her head slid sideways…
When the thrum of the helicopter blades suddenly thundered on all sides, Charlotte looked up to see exactly what she’d brought on herself. Her heart sank. She knew there would be heat-sensing cameras on board, she knew they’d be scouring the Pike, and she knew they would find her – they could probably see her right now. Well she didn’t intend to give up her liberty that easily, they would have to work for their kill. With a renewed energy she slung her bag over her good shoulder and carried on slowly up the Pike. The further she went the steeper and harder it got and her heeled shoes were not exactly made for climbing. She took them off and put them in her bag but the ground was rough and stony in places, it cut into the soles of her feet and inevitably slowed her down.
All the time Charlotte climbed she could hear the helicopter’s blades and engines above her. Shouts from lower down the Pike sounded very close too – for the first time in her life she understood how a fox felt when it tried to outrun the hounds.
“Doctor Peterson! We have you surrounded! Lay down flat on your stomach with your hands on your head. I repeat – we have you surrounded!”
Then Charlotte saw them. They were in all directions – it was over.
When she was brought down, read her rights and put in the van, Harry almost felt sorry for her – almost. She looked absolutely terrible. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but given her crimes, when he looked her in the eyes he expected them to flash with anger, hatred, false pride, spite… she had none of that. As Harry Longbridge looked Charlotte Peterson in the eyes that night, there was zero emotional energy. What he saw was a woman totally and utterly haunted.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The day of Maggie Rowlands’ funeral dawned grey and overcast, much how her granddaughter Gina was feeling as the cars arrived at Kirkby Church for the service and burial. The events of the previous few weeks had understandably left her, Andrew and Molly in a fractious and emotional state, but unbeknown to them, those feelings were about to get a whole lot more confusing…
At least with Charlotte now safely in custody awaiting trial and almost certain future incarceration at Rampton, the inhabitants of Kirkdale and its little neighbouring village of Kirkby-Over-Sands had started to settle down. Never before had its occupants suffered the terror of a serial killer, let alone one that had held a respected position in the community.
From Miles’ point of view, the arrest of his wife for the h
orrific murders of five women, a young man, and attempted murders of their receptionist, her boyfriend and surrogate sister, was mentally just too much to cope with. He was on extended leave until further notice and under a specialist doctor at a separate private practice for his own emotional state. His decision to divorce Charlotte was pretty much immediate and he’d already instigated the initial arrangements. No amount of inheritance money could ever be high enough, even for a man as materialistic as Miles, to keep him in that marriage. Similarly, there would be a further shock for him that was to change his life forever…
Harry Longbridge also followed the funeral cars as they trickled up the lane to the small church. He’d become very involved with this young trio and felt quite honoured when Andrew and Gina had asked if he would attend.
Jenny had also been asked if she would come, but had declined given her grief at the loss of her brother, and the fact she’d not been allowed to arrange his funeral yet due to police procedure and Charlotte’s upcoming prosecution. His special ‘JF’ bracelet that had been missing when he was pulled from the lake was later found in the glove compartment of Charlotte’s Morgan Roadster. To make sure it wasn’t left in her pocket that night she’d quickly thrown it in there, but in her haste to dispose of his body had forgotten to retrieve it to toss in the lake after him…
Under intense questioning and seriously depleted state of mind, Doctor Charlotte Peterson had finally admitted to the six murders and the attempts on Molly’s, Gina’s and Andrew’s lives, to the relief of the whole team who had worked so hard in bringing her to justice. Not least, Harry Longbridge and his two young officers, Joe Walker and Suzanne Moorcroft, who had been instrumental in their suggestions and observations with regard to the main murder weapon used on the five women. The chloroform, cool bag and mallet that had also been used, were later found in a cupboard under a horse rug in the stables.
The service was quite short and the most difficult part yet to come as Margaret Rowlands had wished to be buried with her husband and parents in the family plot. It was here that only the closest of family members were in attendance, lined up either side of the open grave, now with umbrellas above them to catch the late autumn rain.
Two women, one obviously older but still very glamorous, stood opposite each other; both held yellow roses, both had flaming red hair. Molly couldn’t help herself as she paid little attention to the proceedings and a very great deal on the woman facing her. It was noticeable that the owner of that other yellow rose didn’t pay the attention she might have during such a solemn occasion either – instead, she stared hard at Molly’s closest friend who stood right beside her – yellow rose in hand.
“Who’s that woman opposite?” she whispered to Gina as discreetly as she could. “The one with the red hair… the one who looks exactly like you!”
Gina looked up then. She’d not really noticed anyone in particular during the church service apart from a few neighbours and friends of her grandmother’s. Three or four residents from the nursing home had been able to come accompanied by staff members, and of course Molly’s parents, but frankly Gina was too upset to concentrate on anyone much – she was just grateful for Molly’s, the Fields’ and Andrew’s support.
“I – I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before, although… there is something vaguely familiar… ” Andrew looked up now and noticed the woman himself, glanced sideways at Gina then back across the grave. He summed up the situation immediately and raised his eyebrows questioningly at the older woman. Emily Stone nodded pointedly back at him in acknowledgement as Maggie Rowlands was laid to rest, and two yellow roses were thrown down…
Harry stood away from the graveside but had observed with interest from a distance. The similarity between Gina Rowlands and the redhead had not gone unnoticed by him, nor that there had been no communication between them as yet. He was aware Gina had been brought up by her grandmother in her mother’s absence, now it looked like that absence might have ended.
He continued to watch as the mourners began to gradually drift away, which left the redhead and a much older shabbier lady on one side, Andrew Gale, Gina Rowlands and Molly Fields on the other. Within minutes the redhead had walked round with the elderly lady to talk with the trio, and he would have given a great deal to know what was about to be said.
As Emily approached them with the strange looking old lady Gina didn’t know either, the young girl squeezed her boyfriend’s hand tightly in anticipation of something, of what she wasn’t quite sure. Somewhere at the back of her head pictures flickered in and out, pictures she had all but forgotten. He squeezed it back.
“It’s Gina isn’t it?” said the glamorous redhead as she held out her hand. Gina shook it automatically.
“Yes, I’m Gina but I’ve no idea who –” Emily took a deep breath and just came straight out with it…
“I’m your mother Gina – I’m Emily Stone, formerly Rowlands – Margaret was my mother.” She waited for it to sink in, Andrew and Molly waited for her to pass out. Molly’s bottom jaw dropped south at her correct suspicions and Andrew put his arms tightly around his girlfriend in case her knees buckled. Gina remained silent. The old lady next to Emily said nothing – she looked scared witless and quite out of place as her only companion. Gina’s confusion was a mixture of both the ramifications of what the redhead had just come out with, and where this other woman might fit in. Andrew turned to her, concerned at how this little bombshell had just been dropped.
“Gina, are you okay sweetheart?” Gina continued to stare at her mother – she wanted to speak but nothing came out.
“Let’s go and sit over there,” said Andrew, his arm around Gina as he helped her over to the benches nearby where the three friends sat down gratefully. Emily and Rose remained on their feet in front of them.
“I’m afraid that’s not all,” continued Emily, “and this is going to come as a massive shock Gina – but now I’ve started I’ve got to tell you everything…” Gina was now seriously worried – surely there couldn’t be any more, what on earth could be more of a shock than having just met my mother at my grandmother’s funeral? Emily looked at the floor, the sky, everywhere but at her daughter. Finally she just blurted it out – “I don’t know what you’ve been told Gina – but your father is… Miles Peterson.” At this revelation all three of them were initially completely speechless – but Gina was having none of it!
“What? No! I don’t believe you! Why should I?” she exclaimed.
“Because it’s true – I’m so sorry love but it’s true…” Emily knew there was another storm to come yet – this was harder than meeting Charlotte at the cottage, to see the pain on her daughter’s face after not having seen her at all for the last seventeen plus years just about finished her.
“This lady is your Great Aunt Rose,” continued Emily, “Margaret’s estranged sister. I met her at the nursing home the day after I arrived from New York… they reconciled the afternoon before she died.” Gina looked at the older woman who now gave a little half-smile, not quite sure whether she should hold out her hand, speak or just stay quiet.
“I – I don’t know what to say.” Gina struggled to find words for a conversation she’d longed to have for most of her life, but now it had happened the most important person to share it with wasn’t there – and to learn that Miles was her father…
It didn’t seem fair to add to their trauma further, especially on such a difficult and sad day, but she felt it couldn’t be left now that she’d started. All the years had been rolled back and the last piece of the puzzle had to be put into place…
“That’s not all…” Emily took another deep breath and picked up old Rosie’s hand, then looked directly at Andrew before she spoke again. “I believe you’re Andrew – Andrew Gale?” He’d been concentrating solely on Gina after the last blow, but looked up now surprised the attention had been turned to him. Molly and Gina exchanged anxious glances
then waited with Andrew for… for what? What else on earth could this woman come out with? “Andrew I recently learnt that you were adopted as a small boy – is that correct?”
“Actually – yes, yes I was, but what’s that got to do with anything?” Gina reached up to place a protective hand on his shoulder, eyes flashing through brimmed tears. Emily gently pushed Rose forward and placed her hands protectively on her shoulders.
“This is Rose Emmerson – née Rowlands… Andrew… Rose is your birth mother.” It was one shock too many, including it seemed for Rose who now began to weep bitterly as her shoulders shook beneath her niece’s hands.
Molly took one look at her two friends, both of whom were now white and completely dumbstruck. She suggested it would be far more comfortable and practical if they all went back to the private quarters at the Carpenters where they could try and begin to come to terms with their new relationships and decide how to move forward. Gina and now Andrew remained in shock and still held on tightly to each other, but nodded quietly in agreement. Emily breathed a huge sigh of relief – it had not been easy, but now it was done, it had hopefully been worth it and she prayed that in time everything would work itself out.
She also hoped that Charlotte would keep her mouth shut…
And as he fished two barley sugars out of his pocket, Harry had continued to watch the group with renewed and suspicious interest –
“Now if retirement wasn’t a few weeks away, I’d…”
***
EPILOGUE...
– Two Years Later –
Rampton High Security Psychiatric Hospital – Nottinghamshire