The Secret Admirer: An absolutely gripping crime thriller (Detective Natalie Ward Book 6)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘I’ll join you,’ said Lucy. Natalie was glad of her company. The last body she’d looked at had been her child’s. You can do this. Deep breath. Lucy lifted the tent flap and followed Natalie into the small space.

  Pinkney Watson, the pathologist, was on his knees replacing his instruments into his case. Natalie spotted flecks of grey in his hair that caught the light and was sure she hadn’t noticed any before. He released a sad sigh as he patted the dead girl’s hand. It was one of the main reasons she liked Pinkney. Not only was he a top pathologist, he treated all the victims as if they were patients.

  ‘Absolutely horrible,’ he said to no one in particular, eyes still on the victim.

  Pinkney was unmarried and in his late fifties. He shared his Victorian, three-storey house in Samford with a pair of Aegean cats and had a love of walking and nature that saw him travel frequently in his bright-green 1960s VW campervan called Mabel. Ordinarily he and Lucy shared banter though today there was nothing other than sorrow etched on his face.

  ‘How one human being can inflict such cruel damage on another is totally incomprehensible to me,’ he said. ‘She’ll have suffered enormously before she died. Can you imagine what it’s like to feel your flesh burning, to lose the sight in your eyes and to feel as if your very ears are melting? And the smell! The poor girl!’ It was unlike the man to become emotional, and Lucy placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. He sniffed. ‘Sorry. An unprofessional outburst. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘There’s no need to apologise,’ said Natalie.

  He noticed her properly for the first time, his piercing blue eyes searching her face. ‘Ah, Natalie. I didn’t expect to see you back yet.’

  ‘I couldn’t bear sitting at home another day. I missed you all,’ she replied.

  ‘We missed you too. I certainly did. I haven’t been to visit you only because I wanted to give you space. You had enough to deal with without this bumbling old fool turning up on your doorstep.’ Pinkney may not have visited her but he had sent her flowers on three separate occasions and a card, bearing a thoughtful message, that had touched her deeply and made her cry.

  ‘You are neither bumbling nor a fool and you did more than enough. I appreciated your kindness.’

  He brushed away the thanks. ‘Least I could do. Anyway, this, I’m sorry to say, is Gemma Barnes.’ He turned back to the body on the floor.

  The girl in front of her did not resemble the confident young woman on her ID photograph at all. The acid had dissolved not only the flesh on her face but had melted her right ear and eye and burnt away much of her hair, leaving little other than a disfigured head. She was wearing a woollen coat but the collar had fused with the flesh on her neck, making her look hideously ghoulish. Natalie crouched down and searched for signs to remind her of who this person really was. Her eyes alighted on the girl’s elegant fingers, neat nails, painted pale pink, and the silver ring on the forefinger of her right hand. Natalie closed her eyes and pictured the girl as she had been, then a vision of Leigh replaced the image and she stood up, panic rising in her chest. She blinked it away. Deep breath. It was no good, she couldn’t look at this ruined shell any longer. ‘I’ve seen enough,’ she said and dived back outside. A shower of rain had begun to fall, sprinkling the pavement with tiny droplets. Her chest rose and fell as she inhaled and exhaled deliberately, calming her racing heart. Lucy and Pinkney exited the tent and stood beside her, apparently unaware of the sudden panic she’d experienced.

  Pinkney cleared his throat. ‘I believe she died of circulatory shock. Such an attack, as vicious as it was, would not have been sufficient to kill her. I imagine the shock of the attack caused her blood pressure to drop rapidly, leading to organ hypoperfusion, which in layman’s terms means decreased blood flow through vital organs such as the brain. This in turn leads to cellular death and multiorgan failure. With nobody around to witness the attack and rush to her assistance, shock would have passed through several stages quite rapidly. Had there been somebody about, she might have been saved, although what state she would have been in afterwards is anyone’s guess. She most definitely would have been blind and possibly deaf in one ear. Awful business. I’m finished here. I’ll let them know she can be moved to the pathology lab.’ He hastened away, leaving Lucy to comment on his unusually sombre mood.

  ‘Not like him to be over sensitive,’ she said.

  ‘Some cases affect you more than others.’ said Natalie before adding, ‘And she looked such a mess.’

  A person strode purposefully towards Natalie and Lucy. It was PC Ian Jarvis, the junior member of her team. He’d lost weight since Natalie had last seen him – a good stone or more – and his lean frame looked rangy, his face gaunt and drawn. He stood awkwardly in front of her and spoke quietly.

  ‘I’m really pleased you came back to us. I’ve missed working alongside you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She gave him a small smile of appreciation for his heartfelt words and he seemed to exhale.

  ‘I wasn’t sure what to say to you,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t want it to be… you know… awkward.’

  ‘You said the right thing.’ She didn’t dwell on it but continued with her thoughts and instructions as she addressed her team. ‘Ian, find out what Gemma studied, where she lived and how she got to the library. She replied to a text message from her mother at seven fifteen this evening, and her body was found by Dr Alex Fletcher at half past seven, therefore we can assume the attack took place sometime in those intervening fifteen minutes. We clearly need to find out who would attack her in this way. Dig around, talk to boyfriends, present and ex-, friends, relatives and find out if she was a member of any political or religious groups. We’ll begin with the usual checks and gather whatever information we can. I’d like to talk to her mother soon too. Do we know who broke the news to her?’

  ‘I’ll find out,’ Lucy said and lifted her phone.

  Mike was wandering back towards them, head lowered. Natalie understood the enormity of the task he faced. It was always harder to find evidence when crimes were committed outside in public spaces. Mike stopped by her side and watched with her as the paramedics came into view, carrying a stretcher and body bag. Gemma would be driven only a short distance to the laboratory. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ She dug her nails into the fleshy part of her palm and tried not to let her mind drift back to August.

  The library was at the edge of campus, some distance from the thoroughfare and other university buildings, in this quiet, pedestrian area. Had the attacker known Gemma would be coming here this evening, or had they stalked her, or was she the victim of a random attack? Her gut told her it was a deliberate attack and somebody bore Gemma Barnes a grudge. It was her duty to find out who and why, and bring them to justice.

  Mike gave her a look that she interpreted as concern and she reassured him with a half-smile. She could handle this. This wasn’t the work of a serial killer hell-bent on abducting children. This, she could manage. She hoped.

  Chapter Four

  Friday, 16 November – Night

  Dear Gemma,

  I feel really stupid. I’m not used to anyone smiling at me, let alone somebody like you. You took me by surprise, and when you caught my eye briefly and smiled in my direction, I could only return an ungrateful scowl, afraid you would see how I truly felt – in awe of you.

  People like me never hit anybody’s radar. We’re shunned or, worse than that, ridiculed, so we end up skulking in the shadows – Billy no mates. We’re riddled with insecurities and sadness. Not that somebody as popular as you would understand.

  I blew my chance – my one chance to win you over, smile back at you and maybe capture your attention – and now I sit and watch and wish you would notice me again, really see me, not look through me, like everyone else does.

  Are you like everybody else, or are you better than that?

  An Admirer

  A large picture of Gemma was stuck on the whiteboard in the office.


  ‘She was nice-looking, wasn’t she?’ said Ian.

  ‘Looked a lot like her mother. This is Sasha Barnes.’ Lucy passed Murray the photograph she’d taken from the printer only moments earlier.

  Murray whistled softly. ‘Mother?’

  ‘Thirty-five,’ Lucy replied.

  ‘Get out of here!’

  ‘No. True. She had Gemma when she was only a schoolkid herself.’

  ‘Wow! She could be Gemma’s twin sister.’ Murray’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead as he spoke.

  ‘Maybe that’s why this happened,’ Ian offered. ‘Somebody was jealous of Gemma?’

  ‘There are lots of girls who are good-looking. They don’t all get acid chucked in their faces – thankfully. Besides, her mother is the real stunner,’ said Murray.

  Natalie had been going through what they’d accumulated thus far and chose that moment to stand up and take control of the meeting.

  ‘We’re going to have to look at every possible angle on this and can’t focus solely on the theory that Gemma was attacked because of her looks. She was in her second year of studying Russian and German. Obviously, we need to talk to her fellow students and those tutors who taught her. She also worked part-time at Chancer’s Bar – same place as her mother – and we need to check it out as well. In the first instance, we should try to establish if she was assaulted by somebody she knew, possibly a lover or boyfriend, or if this was a random attack. That person might frequent Chancer’s Bar or be a student. We’ll consider other options later, but for now, start with her housemates at 53 Eastview Avenue. It’s one of several houses dotted about Samford that are owned and rented out by the university. Murray, you and I will talk to Sasha. Lucy and Ian, talk to her housemates.’

  ‘Reckon they’ll still be up at this time?’ asked Ian.

  ‘It’s eleven thirty on a Friday night and they’re students. What do you reckon, you muppet?’ said Murray.

  ‘Oh… yeah… I wasn’t thinking straight.’ Ian flushed deeply.

  Murray grinned at the junior officer’s discomfort then suddenly grabbed either side of the man’s face and planted a loud kiss on his forehead. ‘Jeez, I’ve missed working with you.’

  Natalie was surprised. ‘You weren’t working together?’

  ‘Super split us up. I was moved to Narcotics and Lucy and Ian went to Vice. This is the first time we’ve been in the same team since…’

  Natalie faltered for a second then quickly regained her composure. ‘Since I took leave.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then it’s definitely a good thing I returned. Wouldn’t want to be held responsible for breaking up such a beautiful bromance.’ It wasn’t a particularly funny comment but it had the desired effect. Any leftover tension evaporated. ‘Right, let’s find out which bastard did this to Gemma.’

  The showers had given way to proper rain that was being dumped from the sky and had already begun to flood the area outside the front door. Black branches that overhung the car park creaked and trembled as gusts of wind howled ominously and shook them.

  ‘Flipping heck!’ said Murray, as he and Natalie exited headquarters. ‘Where are you parked?’

  ‘Far end,’ said Natalie.

  ‘Shall we take my car? It’s only over there.’

  The Jeep Renegade was a few metres away and she didn’t fancy a soaking. ‘Makes sense.’

  Murray blipped the key fob and the vehicle chirped as it unlocked. They both sprinted for the car, feet splashing through puddles that had quickly formed. She launched herself into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut and rubbed her calves to remove the water stains on her tights. In the brief moments the door had been open, rain had splashed inside, and droplets, like snail trails, trickled down the plastic dashboard. She inhaled the scent of freshly picked berries emitted by a jelly-bean-shaped air freshener that dangled from the rear-view mirror, the smell evoking dim memories of brighter days of summers past.

  ‘Bloody weather!’ She pulled down the vanity mirror to tidy herself up before visiting Sasha Barnes and was startled by her reflection. In the less flattering light of the car she saw what others must have seen: a woman scarred and broken by life. She’d seen the same hollow-eyed and sunken-cheek look on victims, aged prematurely by whatever misfortune had befallen them, never imagining she would suffer a similar fate. She’d never been one for preening or spending hours enhancing her appearance, but it was evident she’d neglected herself. She needed to rectify that. She couldn’t be a strong leader if she looked downtrodden.

  Murray started the vehicle and headed out of the car park, the windscreen wipers, even on quick-wipe, unable to cope with the volume of water that streamed down the glass, impeding his vision. He squinted hard and she noticed he’d put on a pair of spectacles.

  ‘When did you start wearing glasses?’ she asked.

  ‘Couple of months back. I’m limiting their usage at the moment and only putting them on when I have to. Old age is creeping up on me.’ Murray was only in his mid-thirties.

  ‘Old age, my arse!’

  Her response made him chuckle – a deep, relaxed sound that made her smile inwardly. She reached in her bag for a lipstick to smarten up her appearance, found one and slicked on some bright red. The result wasn’t great but it would have to do.

  ‘Where are we headed?’ he asked.

  ‘Juniper Road.’ Sasha lived at the far side of Samford on the way to Stone and Stoke. It was about a fifteen-minute journey through town at this time of night.

  ‘How far away is that from Chancer’s Bar?’

  Natalie returned the lipstick to the muddle in her bag and checked Google Maps on her mobile. ‘About ten minutes by car. It would have taken Gemma a lot longer to get there from the university or Eastview Avenue, especially if she used public transport.’

  ‘You’d think she’d get a job closer to the university,’ said Murray as he drew up to traffic lights. The rain drummed against the roof, almost drowning out his voice. ‘There must be loads of bar jobs about in Samford.’

  ‘Maybe she already had the job before she went to uni and liked working there. We’ll find out when we talk to Sasha. You need to take a right here,’ she added.

  He flicked the indicator switch and turned off the main road. They were now passing terraced houses fronted by uneven pavements. None of the houses had garages, and cars were sandwiched in one behind the other on both sides of the road, narrowing it and making driving difficult. Murray slowed to allow a van approaching from the opposite direction to pass safely. Natalie fell silent. The closer they got to Juniper Close, the more reality sank in. She was, as Mike had said, ‘back in the saddle’ and about to confront a woman who had lost her only daughter. She had to distance herself emotionally and that was going to be difficult.

  Murray said something that was lost in the noise of the engine and driving rain. They were minutes away. Natalie counted slowly on each inhalation, calming herself, preparing herself. They took another turning; the bright lights of a 24/7 supermarket illuminated one side of the road, and opposite it stood ugly concrete blocks of flats, windows like black eyes peering out into the gloom. Another couple of turns and they were onto a quiet street. Here, semi-detached houses with driveways were set back from the road. Grey wheelie bins and tied-up black bin bags stood at the end of each property, forming a haphazard line along the pavement. Murray slowed the car and began searching for Sasha’s house. They soon found it: it was the only house with all its lights on, a cosy glow falling over the small frontage. He drew up close to it. The rain had eased off, and although it was still tumbling, it no longer hammered noisily above them. The tempo of her heart increased and she took a moment to open the car door, before jumping down lightly. Deep breath. She could do this.

  Sasha was planted in the middle of a pastel green settee, a large dark green cushion covered in blue hummingbirds clutched to her chest. Her face and eyelids were puffed and distorted from crying, and when she spoke, her voice
was thick with phlegm.

  ‘Why would somebody do such an evil thing?’ she stuttered.

  Natalie couldn’t answer Sasha, merely empathise with her. Three months ago, she’d asked similar questions about the monster who had taken her own flesh and blood from her. She’d sat dazed and shattered, her life destroyed. She wouldn’t be able to repair this unfortunate woman’s life but in time, she would give her answers to some of her questions.

  ‘When did you last see Gemma?’ she asked.

  ‘Two days ago, when I dropped her off a new hot water bottle. Hers had sprung a leak and it’s cold in that old house at this time of year.’

  ‘Did you often visit her?’

  ‘Only now and again, to make sure she was okay, but we chatted every day on the phone.’

  ‘And I expect you saw each other at work at Chancer’s Bar?’

  ‘Yes. Mostly on weekends. She did shift work there whenever she could find time.’

  ‘Had she been working there long?’

  ‘Over two years. She started while she was doing A-levels. She wanted to save up for university. I couldn’t give her much money and fees are expensive.’

  Natalie was puzzled by the fact the girl attended a local university yet still chose to pay for student accommodation rather than live at home. ‘Why did Gemma leave home? You were obviously close.’