by Tana Collins
‘Before they attack again, you mean?’
That’s exactly what Fletcher was going to say and it wasn’t like her to make such an uncharacteristic gaffe. But Serena’s words had stopped her just in time.
‘Before they get away, I was going to say.’
Serena tried to sit up in her hospital bed. Fletcher helped her. The girl motioned for the beaker of water on the table beside her. Fletcher moved the beaker towards her and Serena sucked at the straw. She took three or four sips before she spoke.
‘This girl, Rachel Abbie, has he attacked her too?’ The girl sounded like she had a bad case of laryngitis but Fletcher knew it was because the attacker had tried to strangle her. ‘There’s been another attack, hasn’t there? Tell me.’
Fletcher once again cursed herself for her clumsy choice of words.
‘Another girl has been assaulted, yes,’ said Carruthers, throwing a warning look at Fletcher to be more circumspect. ‘But we can’t tell you any more than that.’
Serena’s eyes were wide and staring. Fletcher patted the girl’s cold hand. ‘It may not even be connected to what happened to you. You’re perfectly safe here in hospital. Don’t worry about that.’
‘What if he comes back? Comes into the hospital I mean? Attacks me here?’ Her hands were scrunching up the bedding. ‘He hasn’t been caught. He could be anywhere.’ Her voice was rising in panic.
Fletcher lay a reassuring hand on Serena’s bare arm. ‘He isn’t going to attack you here. You’re safe.’ But even as Fletcher said this, she thought back to the last big case she and Carruthers had investigated. She thought of the day she’d so nearly been kidnapped while visiting a suspect in hospital. Her mind turned to the police officer who had been shot by the assailant who had been posing as a cleaner. It was the fact he had been wearing a Rolex that had given him away. That, and his accent. It could so easily have been her who had taken a bullet. She’d found out the officer who’d been shot still wasn’t back on duty. A shiver ran down her spine.
Dragging her mind back from these disturbing thoughts, she focused on the case. Whatever she’d just told Serena, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time an assault victim had been attacked in hospital. And this girl wasn’t just a victim of assault, was she? She was a victim of attempted murder. She decided to have a word with Carruthers after the interview. Perhaps they could get a uniform put on the door. But would the police budget stretch to that? Carruthers didn’t call the shots any more. Sometimes she forgot that they all had a new DCI. Fletcher’s thoughts turned to the dead girl. ‘But you’re sure you definitely don’t know a student called Rachel Abbie?’ she pressed.
Serena shook her head and turned away from Fletcher. A wall had come down. Her eyes filled with tears once more and she touched the side of her face that had the dressing. ‘They can’t tell me how bad the scarring’s going to be. I have to keep the dressing on.’
‘Doctors can do amazing things, Serena,’ said Fletcher. ‘And scars fade with time.’ Even as she said it she hated herself for it. It sounded trite and patronising. How would she cope if she was the one lying there? She looked at the pursed lips of Serena Davis. She’s trying to be brave. I bet she feels like sobbing.
Once again, Fletcher got the feeling Serena wasn’t telling the whole truth about knowing Rachel Abbie, but it was more her copper’s instinct. She made a mental note to mention it to Carruthers to see if he had come to the same conclusion. She looked at Serena, hoping that this poor young girl would get all the help, both physical and emotional, that she needed. How could she have thought this girl was lucky?
Outside the room they heard voices. Perhaps doctors doing their rounds, thought Fletcher. Or cleaners. She shuddered, remembering once again how close she had come to being shot. She had a sudden flashback to the feel of the cold hard gun pointing to the side of her head as he marched her down the corridor. She heard someone whistling, and then footsteps receding. The noise brought Fletcher out of her reverie but also it seemed to disturb Serena. Her eyes were wide with fear. Fletcher realised the girl was shaking.
Fletcher touched the girl’s arm once more in what she hoped was a reassuring way. ‘What’s wrong? Should I get a nurse?’
Serena’s face was ashen. ‘Don’t let him in. The man who’s whistling.’
‘You’ve remembered something. What is it?’
‘Yes, I have. I have remembered something.’ She swallowed painfully.
Fletcher was starting to have a sore back and shoulders with all the leaning forward she was doing, but she ignored the discomfort and moved a little closer to Serena to be able to hear what she had to say. She felt it was going to be important.
‘Just before I got attacked–’ She motioned for the water again. Speaking was clearly an effort and she was down to a whisper.
Fletcher picked up the beaker, moved the straw closer to Serena, who tried to sit up to drink from it.
‘What do you remember?’
Serena took a couple of sips and then lay back on the pillows. ‘Someone whistling. I heard someone whistling. Just before I got attacked.’
Fletcher put the beaker down, sat upright and dug into her handbag for a pen. ‘What sort of whistle? Was the person whistling the tune of a song?’
She exchanged a look with Carruthers. This was the first solid lead they had had. It might mean nothing but still, it was a start.
With difficulty, Serena shook her head. ‘Not a song. No.’
‘A wolf whistle? That sort of whistle?’
‘No, nothing like that. It sounded strange. Almost as if it was done through the teeth. It wasn’t tuneful and it was just for a few moments. I can’t remember anything else. I’m sorry. Then I got attacked.’ She shut her eyes once more and turned her head away from them.
The door to Serena’s room suddenly opened and in walked a stout woman carrying a polystyrene cup. Fletcher could smell the rich aroma of coffee. She wouldn’t have minded a coffee herself right now.
The woman stopped short. ‘Who are you? You’re not medics. What are you doing in Serena’s room?’
Both Carruthers and Fletcher took out their police IDs.
Being senior in rank Carruthers introduced himself first. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Jim Carruthers.’
‘DS Andrea Fletcher.’ She watched the woman put her coffee cup down next to the empty cup and fold her arms. She clearly wasn’t happy and Fletcher could already hazard a guess why. She just hoped the woman wouldn’t cause a disturbance in front of the young victim. And who was she? What was her relationship to Serena? She hadn’t yet introduced herself.
‘Excuse me, can I ask you who you are?’ Fletcher found herself saying.
The woman faced Fletcher. ‘I’m Clare. Clare Stott. I’m best friends with Serena’s mum, Yvonne.’
‘Well, I’m glad there’s someone here looking out for Serena.’ Fletcher tried to smile.
‘Which is more than you’re doing.’
Here it comes, thought Fletcher glumly. She’s going straight for the jugular.
‘It’s been five days since Serena’s attack and I take it you still haven’t caught the bastard?’
Serena tried to prop herself up on a pillow, failed, and sank back into the bed. ‘There’s been another attack,’ she rasped.
Bugger, thought Fletcher. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. But then again, the news would get out soon enough.
‘Oh my God. There’s a potential serial attacker on the loose.’ Clare Stott’s voice rose a pitch. ‘And you’re doing nothing to catch this lunatic. What are you doing in here talking to Serena? Why aren’t you out trying to catch this nutter?’
Fletcher tried to display a calm she wasn’t feeling. She was starting to feel increasingly annoyed by this woman’s lack of thought around the patient. She kept her voice level. ‘We have nothing to suggest the perpetrator of these two crimes is the same person.’
The woman’s eyes widened in fright. ‘Jesus, that’s even worse. There are two potential se
rial attackers on the loose.’
Carruthers cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Stott – Clare, it’s not helpful to refer to the person who attacked Serena as a serial attacker. And it may not actually be true,’ he added.
Fletcher was happy Carruthers had decided to chip in. She listened to him as he continued to speak, reassured by his calm manner. ‘And we certainly don’t have two serial attackers on the loose, as you put it. And to be honest I think you should take this conversation outside with my DS. We don’t want to be upsetting Serena any more than she’s already been upset, now do we?’
Carruthers’ words seemed to have got through to Clare as she fell silent. As Fletcher steered the older woman to the door, she didn’t voice what she was thinking. She was biting her lip. She was so close to pointing out that the older woman could be a damn sight more helpful if she was doing something useful like trying to trace Serena’s parents to their current location herself. They needed to be at their daughter’s bedside.
Fletcher opened the door, but before Clare Stott had even left the room, she had turned on her. ‘So, what are you doing to catch this maniac?’
‘We’re following up various leads at the moment and we’re hopeful we’ll make an arrest soon,’ said Fletcher, keeping her breathing even. This seemed at least to placate the woman, even though it was clearly untrue.
‘Have you managed to trace her parents yet?’ Suddenly, the woman seemed full of questions. She also seemed to have decided she wasn’t leaving the room after all, despite the door being held open for her. Her feet were firmly planted wide apart and she had her arms folded. Her aggression no doubt masked her fear.
Fletcher sighed. ‘We’re still working on it. Can we take this outside, please?’
The woman tutted. ‘God, you really are useless.’
Fletcher bit her tongue, but this woman was seriously doing her head in. She glanced at Carruthers. He was rubbing his hand over his short, stubbly grey hair – a habit he had when he was aggravated. This woman had got them both rattled.
‘No, I’d like Clare to stay in the room,’ said Serena. ‘I feel safer with her here.’
Clare Stott gave Fletcher a smirk, as Fletcher, struggling not to show how frustrated she was, closed the door. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she let Carruthers once again take up the reins.
‘We would appreciate it if you kept the news of this other assault to yourself for a while. It’s not yet in the public domain. And, as I said to Serena, there’s no reason to think at this stage the two incidences are connected.’
Fletcher couldn’t imagine Clare Stott doing that for a moment. I’m sure she would love nothing better than to tell the whole world just how shit the police are at doing their job, she thought.
Carruthers obviously thought the same, as he added, ‘You don’t want to be the one to reduce our chances of catching this person, do you?’
That seemed to have got through to the woman. ‘No, of course not.’ She walked over to Serena’s bedside, picked up both coffee cups from the table, and turned on her heel, mumbling about needing to make a call.
Who’s she gone to ring? wondered Fletcher, as the woman left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
‘Not much chance of Clare keeping it to herself, by the way,’ rasped Serena.
Fletcher’s heart sank. ‘Why not?’
‘Clare’s a journalist. She’s probably gone to phone her boss.’
Oh fuck, that’s all we need. If Fletcher’s heart had sank earlier it was now well and truly on the bottom of the ocean.
Chapter 5
Carruthers and Fletcher left the hospital. Walking to the station car, a huge gust of cold wind knocked over a wheelie bin. Fletcher wrapped her coat around her and shivered as Carruthers righted the bin. ‘What is it about the weather up here?’ she said. ‘It’s gone back to being winter again.’
‘That’s the Scottish spring for you. Strong winds can come down from Scandinavia. There’s a weather warning in place. I think it’s a depression coming in from the Atlantic. They’re expecting some local disruption to transport tonight.’
Fletcher looked less than impressed but remained silent. She seemed to be in a world of her own. Carruthers knew she had something important on her mind.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I was just thinking about Clare Stott. I can’t believe that woman’s a bloody journalist.’
‘I know. What are the chances? Well, we’re going to have to tell Sandra. She won’t be too pleased.’ Another gust of wind almost took Fletcher off her feet. She stumbled.
‘As much as I love Scotland, if there’s one thing I would change, it would be the weather. I really miss the south east of England this time of year. You can actually sit outside and get a suntan.’ She removed a lock of hair that had partially obscured her face. ‘It’s funny. I always feel most homesick in April and October.’
‘Well, look at it this way. You’re probably saving your skin from becoming leathery from too much sun. Anyway, you’ve no time to sunbathe,’ said Carruthers, looking fondly at his DS. His expression then became serious. ‘We need to catch this person before they strike again.’ Before Fletcher had a chance to answer, Carruthers’ mobile rang.
It was Sandra McTavish with news of the response from the Procurator Fiscal. ‘We’ve got the result we wanted, Jim. Green light to carry on with the PM.’
‘That’s great, Sandra. I’ll get hold of Dr Mackie. See if he can clear his decks.’ He finished the call, punched in a number and held it to his ear. He spoke swiftly to John Mackie. The pathologist was as keen as any of them to get on with the PM.
Carruthers cut the call and put his mobile away. ‘He’ll do the PM within the hour.’
Fletcher had to increase her stride to keep up with him. ‘Great. We’re finally starting to move on this. So, do you think we have a serial killer on our hands?’
Carruthers spoke slowly. ‘Serena Davis is lucky to be alive, but for someone to be classified as a serial killer they need to have killed at least three people.’
‘It’s just pure luck Serena Davis wasn’t killed. If there hadn’t been a noise of that car backfiring in the next street that scared the attacker off, she’d more than likely be dead. Do you think the fact she heard whistling’s important?’
Carruthers wondered about this. ‘Well, it was most likely her attacker whistling. Do you mean is it part of this monster’s modus operandi? No idea at this stage.’
‘It’s a bit creepy though, isn’t it?’ Fletcher persisted. ‘To hear tuneless whistling just before being attacked?’
Carruthers did indeed think it sounded creepy.
‘I got the feeling Serena wasn’t telling us everything.’
Carruthers’ hand shot out and grabbed Fletcher’s arm. A car was reversing out of a space and the driver hadn’t checked to see if anything or anyone was behind him.
‘Oh thanks, Jim. Idiot driver. Did you not think Serena was keeping something back from us?’
‘How do you mean?’
Fletcher was almost running to keep up with Carruthers’ long strides. ‘I don’t know. Didn’t you notice how she responded when we asked her if she knew Rachel Abbie? Her eyes flickered almost as if she knew who I was talking about.’
Carruthers stopped abruptly and turned to Fletcher. ‘Do you think she was lying? What reason would she have?’
Fletcher pulled herself up short. She’d nearly walked into the back of the DI. ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question. I honestly don’t know. But the biggest problem is the description she gave us of her attacker. It was so vague it could have been anyone. I mean, she couldn’t tell us what he was wearing at all, except that he was dressed all in black. And she’s not even sure about that. Or that he was even a man.’
Carruthers pulled a face. ‘Mackie thinks the two attacks were most likely to have been inflicted by a man, although I agree that it would have helped if we had a better description to go on.’
&nb
sp; ‘Well, we know he was wearing a clown mask so that’s a starting point. Mind you, we’ve already exhausted the possibility of it being bought locally. Nothing’s turned up on that score which means it was more than likely bought online.’
‘Or just not bought in this area.’ Carruthers groaned. ‘God, policing used to be so much easier in a lot of ways in the old days. If you wanted to find out if someone had bought a mask that had been used in an assault or a robbery you’d just go into a joke or novelty shop.’
‘You wouldn’t be without your advancements in forensics, though, would you, Jim? And you can’t have it both ways.’
He thought about what Fletcher had said about the likelihood of the masks having been sold online.
‘True. Okay, well, we’ll just have to hope that those checking with online sellers will have some joy that somebody’s sold that sort of mask to someone in this area.’
Fletcher unlocked the car but didn’t get in. ‘At least Serena is alive to give us some sort of description even if it’s not very detailed. You never know, she may start remembering more, although I don’t actually think she wants to. She’s trying to block it out.’
Carruthers leaned against the car. ‘Brain’s a funny thing, especially in a stressful situation. It might have partially shut down to protect her.’
‘Do you think it might help if we get a hypnotist in? Try to regress her? Perhaps under hypnosis she’ll remember more about her attacker.’
‘Can’t see either her or Clare Stott going for that, can you? And we’d need Serena’s permission. And then there’s the budget to think about.’
Carruthers watched Fletcher’s face fall. ‘But it’s worth keeping it in mind. Depending on how the investigation goes I might run it past Sandra. But I don’t think all leads have been exhausted yet to use hypnosis.’
Fletcher pulled a face. ‘But that’s just it, Jim. We don’t seem to have any leads apart from the assailant wearing a mask and whistling. And anyway, even if we did, exhausting all leads takes time. Serena Davis is clearly very upset. You said yourself she could be trying to block the events out. Wouldn’t that be reason enough? Then there’s the fact I feel she’s withholding information. Surely hypnosis is also used where the subject’s very upset about the crime or where he or she is considered to be withholding information from the police. The former is certainly true in the case of Serena Davis and I strongly suspect she’s also withholding some information from us. Anyway, there’s heaps of instances where forensic hypnosis has been used to help jog the memory along.’