Desolate Hearts

by Robin Roughley

  Walking across the room, she looked out of the window at the white sculptured landscape. For once, the dreary view had been transformed, gone was the mud-churned back garden, even the rusting tractor was easier on the eye, its hard lines softened by the snow.

  Lifting her gaze, she blinked against the glare of the bright winter sun, then a frown formed on her face as her eyes adjusted and she saw the trail of red leading across the white until it ended in a huge red stain. Her husband lay spread-eagled on the ground, his dirty grey shirt drenched with blood, the braces still in place holding up a pair of old work jeans patched at the knees.

  Dorothy moved forwards until her nose was almost touching the glass, her panting breath distorting the view. Reaching out, she swiped the condensation away with the flat of her shaking hand before looking left and right – searching for the head of her butchered husband.

  More tears fell from her watery eyes, though this time they were tears of pure joy.

  'Oh, thank you, God,' she rejoiced. 'Thank you!'

  Now, when she retraced her steps she felt light on her feet, her heart for once was full of joy as she made her way down the stairs, heading for the phone in the corner of the room, her face beaming with a smile that made her look ten years younger.

  19

  'Where are you?' Bannister bawled down the phone.

  Lasser tried to dismiss the feeling of deja-vu, concentrating on the slippery road instead. 'The snow is slowing us down, we're just approaching Aspull now.'

  'Right, you're the nearest…'

  'I know we are, you said that less than an hour ago.'

  'I mean the nearest to Marsh Farm in Standish.'

  Spenner and Lasser exchanged looks of puzzlement.

  'You've lost me,' Lasser said, making small adjustments to the steering as the car started to slide.

  'We've just had a call from someone called Dorothy Marsh, lives on a farm off Jagger Lane.'

  'I know it.'

  'She says her elderly husband is sprawled in the back garden…'

  'Making a snow angel!?' Spenner interrupted and grinned.

  Lasser held his breath, waiting for Bannister to explode. He didn't have to wait long.

  'A FUCKING ''SNOW ANGEL''!?'

  Spenner blanched as he realised his mistake.

  'Bernard Marsh is eighty years old, and yes he might very well have been doing a ''snow angel'', but it wouldn't be an accurate representation!'

  The phone fell silent and Lasser kept his mouth closed knowing that Bannister was waiting for one of them to ask him to explain.

  'I'm sorry, sir, I don't follow,' Spenner said.

  Lasser sighed and shook his head.

  'It wouldn't have been accurate because some bastard's CUT OFF HIS HEAD!' Bannister literally screamed.

  Spenner cringed back into his seat at the force of the onslaught.

  'Me and Odette are setting off now, but you're well ahead of us, I've sent DI Chadwick to check on Abigail Lambert, so shift your arses and get over to Marsh Farm this instant.'

  'We're on our way,' Lasser said, flicking on the wipers as the snow started to come down again.

  'You'd better be,' Bannister warned before hanging up.

  'Christ, I don't think I'll ever get used to him blowing his stack like that,' Spenner said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  'The trick is not to respond, he likes to set the traps and it pisses him off if you don't take the bait.'

  Spenner thought for a moment before nodding in understanding. 'I'd never thought of that.'

  'Of course, he still ends up throwing a wobbly, but you get the satisfaction of making him work for it.'

  The road ahead ended at a small roundabout, Lasser eased to the left and tentatively went through the gears. Gradually, the houses ended, fields took over, the occasional skeletal tree standing stark in fields covered in an eiderdown of white.

  'I can't believe he's killed again so soon,' Spenner said, folding his arms, his face thoughtful.

  'Well, under normal circumstances I'd advise against making assumptions but there can't be two nutters running around town removing heads.'

  'Christ, I wonder where he's going to leave the new one.'

  Lasser tried to think of an answer but the truth was he had none, though if it was the same killer, then he suspected they wouldn't have to wait too long before another grisly discovery was made.

  'What I can't understand is why he takes them in the first place,' Spenner said.

  'Well, by the sounds of it he didn't bother trying to hide Marsh's body and once the snow thaws we may well find the other guy just dumped somewhere in the open.'

  'So, he's only interested in the heads then?'

  Lasser came off the gas and feathered the brakes before easing around a series of S-bends. When the canal bridge approached he glanced to the right, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Jackie's wide-beamed barge moored to the bank, smoke trailing up from the stunted chimney.

  'The question is, are there any links between the two victims.'

  'What if they're random?' Spenner asked.

  'Then it's going to be hard to catch the bastard before he does it again,' Lasser replied as he drove over the bridge, his eyes widening when he saw the road fall away, the hard-packed snow glittering in the afternoon sunshine.

  'Shit, I don't fancy going down there,' Spenner said nervously, giving the seat belt a tug.

  Tapping the brakes, Lasser brought the car to a halt on the brow of the hill. 'We have two choices, either we turn around and go back – which means Bannister will arrive at the farm before we do…'

  Spenner nervously licked his lips as he imagined the DCI going ballistic if he got to the crime scene before them.

  '… or we risk it and hope for the best,' Lasser finished.

  Drawing back his shoulders, Spenner took a deep breath. 'I say we go for it.'

  Lasser grinned and selected first gear. 'I never had you down as an adrenalin junkie,' he said, edging the car forwards, his hands gripping the wheel tight as the road dropped away before them.

  Immediately, the engine started to whine, but Lasser resisted the urge to grab second gear knowing that would only increase their speed.

  When the first bend approached, he eased the wheel to the left, his heart thudding as the car continued in a straight line.

  'Shit,' Spenner gasped.

  At the last second the wheels gripped and turned, and the car made it around, albeit on the wrong side of the road.

  'Jesus, I hope no one is coming up the bloody hill,' Spenner prayed.

  'Don't worry, they'd have no chance if they tried to get up here, even in a four by four,' Lasser reassured him as he tried to straighten the car in preparation for the right-hand bend ahead.

  Spenner didn't look convinced and planted his feet to the mat, one hand holding the seat belt, the other clamped on the dash, his eyes widening as the car started to pick up speed.

  Lasser gritted his teeth, the Audi slid to the left, the wheels thudding into the kerb, forcing a yelp from Spenner. The road straightened out, the engine sounding like a strangled cat, the smell of overheating metal drifting through the vents.

  Lifting his foot, Lasser yanked the gear lever into second and the car picked up speed, Spenner's hand shot from the dash to the roof, his backside rising from the seat in fear.

  'For God's sake, Spenner, sit still,' Lasser barked as the car hurtled over the snow.

  When he saw the small roundabout appear in the distance, Lasser swallowed the sense of dread. It wasn't the thought of wrecking the car that bothered him, but he just couldn't be bothered listening to Bannister freak out about it.

  Making a slight adjustment to the wheel, the car drifted left, the sound of grinding metal screeched as he kept the nearside wheels firmly planted against the tall kerb. Then, he quickly forced the gear lever back into first and the engine joined in with the cacophony of sound.

  The car began to buck and judder, snow ploughed into the
air. 'Bastard thing!' Lasser spat as the roundabout grew closer.

  'We're dead!' Spenner cried.

  Ignoring the prophet of doom, Lasser snatched on the handbrake and the car started to slow a little, at the last second, he yanked the wheel to the right and the car bounced away from the kerb, the handbrake still locked on.

  When the car started to slew sideways, Spenner closed his eyes as they hurtled towards the junction.

  The Audi shot over the mini roundabout sideways on, sending up a sheet of snow before slamming into the kerb, the side of Spenner's head thudding against the passenger window.

  'Ouch! he yelped and opened his eyes, amazed to find that they had come to a halt.

  'You OK?' Lasser asked.

  Spenner's cheeks ballooned as he heaved out a sigh of relief. 'I think so.'

  'Doddle,' Lasser grinned before dropping the handbrake and driving forwards.

  20

  The man pulled up in front of the house, the tyres settling in the deep snow. When he saw Sam building the snowman with his mother, he sighed heavily before climbing out from behind the wheel.

  'Dad, look what we're doing!' Sam shouted as his father walked over.

  The German shepherd came wandering through the trees, tail swishing, sending up a dusting of snow.

  'You've finished early,' his wife said, as she threw him a quick glance, her eyes laced with something that looked very much like repugnance, the bobble on her hat wobbled as she clapped her hands to remove the snow from her gloves.

  'The snow's getting worse. I tried to get up to Ronnie's place, but the road was impassable,' he explained half-heartedly.

  Sam looked up at them both as if sensing the strain between them, the dog came and sat down by his side, and he patted its head with a gloved hand, the big animal's tongue lolling, breath billowing into the frosty air.

  'I've just checked the forecast and it looks as if it's going to put even more down,' she said, glancing up at the pale-grey sky.

  'Well, it gives us the chance to build the best snowman for miles around!' the man said, throwing his arms wide, as Sam grinned, his nose glowing red.

  'We need a head, Dad,' the boy said, pointing to the huge round ball of snow at his back.

  Father looked at son. 'But where are we going to get a head from? You can't have mine, I need it and yours is too small. I know, what about a head shop!?'

  Sam giggled. 'Not a real head silly, we make one out of snow.'

  'Oh right, well, I think I can help there, then your mum can go and get the dinner ready.'

  His wife looked at him and scowled before heading for the front door, the dog following in her wake.

  'Bitch!'　the voice inside his head hissed.

  He watched as she tapped her wellingtons against the wall to dislodge the snow before pushing open the front door and vanishing inside without a backward glance.

  'OK, Sam, let's get this head sorted,' he said, the smile curling his lips in amusement as his son started to collect the snow, scraping it together with his shiny new boots.

  When he thought of the head encased in the hessian sack in the back of the van, the smile grew wider on his face.

  21

  Stepping from the rear of the boat to the towpath, Jackie paused to pull the hood up on her jacket as the whippet dashed past her to prance in the snow.

  'Blimey, it's proper cold,' she mumbled, blowing warm air into her cupped hands.

  The air felt hushed as the snow drifted silently to earth.

  Sniffing the air, she caught the scent of woodsmoke from the chimney of the boat and smiled. It might be freezing outside but the interior of the boat was lovely and warm.

  Turning left, she followed the paw prints in the snow, watching as the sun slowly sank towards the wooded horizon. Fumbling in her pocket, she lifted out the fluffy ear muffs and pulled the hood from her head before slipping them on. Seconds later, the hood was back in place and she lengthened her stride, her boots ploughing through the ankle-deep snow. From the bank, two swans watched her approach, hissing as she walked past. When Poppet appeared, the two birds reared up, their wings extended. With a shake of her head Jackie gave them a wide berth before moving on, the crunch of her feet inaudible beneath the muffs.

  As she walked, she thought about Lasser, his image bringing a smile to her face.

  They had only known one another for a short time and yet it all felt so right. She tried to fathom the reason why and found that she couldn't. She just knew that the more time they spent together, the more she loved the man.

  The dog came and sat down by her side, looking up at her with liquid eyes, the snow peppering her mink-coloured fur.

  'Well, Poppet, who'd have thought it, me in love?'

  The dog panted and then let out a single sharp bark.

  'I know, it's bizarre,' she answered before setting off walking again.

  Over to her right, she could see Christmas lights twinkling on a squat farmhouse hunched down in a field of white, they even had an inflatable Santa standing on what she assumed was the front garden.

  Beyond that, she could make out a snake of lights marking one of the main roads into town, to her left the canal looked milk-white, snow sticking to the sheet ice beneath.

  In the eight years she had been on the boat, she had seen snow but nothing quite as bad as this.

  Despite the cold air she stifled a yawn, it had been late by the time she climbed into bed with Lasser, they had been curled on the sofa watching the wood glowing behind the glass of the burner, the heat pulsating out in warm delicious waves.

  He had talked about his past, and about a woman named Medea. They had been engaged for a while and then she had decided that marrying a police officer was something she couldn't quite manage. He explained that she was now with a man he had considered a friend and they had a young baby daughter together.

  Lasser had looked at her in dismay when he realised it would be the baby's first Christmas. He'd had no idea whether he should buy a present or whether it would look weird. He'd asked her what to buy a baby whose only interest was eating, sleeping and filling its nappy.

  She had sat by his side watching his face as he stared at the fire, there had been sadness there but also a kind of understanding.

  'The truth is this job tends to ruin things,' he had turned to her and tried to smile but she saw the look of panic flash across his face.

  'Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere,' she had replied.

  'Christ, I hope not.'

  Leaning over, she had kissed him reassuringly, when she felt his hand cup her breast she had sighed into his mouth.

  They had made love on the sofa, the cushions scattering left and right as they moved together in the flickering light from the log burner.

  Now, she shivered at the delicious memory and raised her head, feeling the snow land on her face and melt against her skin.

  The lone figure stood on the bridge in the distance, silhouetted against the pale-grey sky as the light continued to fade.

  Jackie came to a stop, the whippet by her side, the bridge was about fifty feet away, an arch of stone that spanned the frozen water leading from one field to the next, the path to the left eventually coming out at Haigh Hall.

  The snow began to fall heavier, the flakes swirling as the wind appeared from nowhere, forcing her to squint against the sudden onslaught. On the bridge the figure remained unmoving, she looked for a dog and saw none.

  Then she got the strangest feeling that the person was watching her, waiting to see what she did. This time when she shivered it had nothing to do with warm memories of making love.

  'Come on, Pops, let's head home,' she said, turning back.

  The whippet followed suit, unconcerned with the weather, her nose at ground level as she sniffed the snow.

  Jackie kept her eyes on the towpath, her head lowered against the snow that suddenly didn't feel soft at all, it felt harsh, alien, pulling at her feet and holding her back. The thin wind was blowing direc
tly into her face, freezing her cheeks, her eyes were almost closed as she trudged back towards the boat.

  After half a minute, she stopped and turned her back to the wind, her eyes staring through the blizzard. She could just make out the arched bridge, this time the figure had vanished. She tried to peer along the towpath, but the snow seemed to increase, obliterating the view, and she felt the unease grow before turning and setting off walking again, her hands thrust into her pockets as the snow gathered on the front of her jacket.

  When the boat came into view, she broke into a run, the whippet by her side started to bark in excitement. Beneath the ear muffs she could hear her breathing – fast and shallow – little more than a pant as she increased her speed.

  By the time she reached the barge her hood had blown free, the snow speckling her long black hair. Snatching the keys from her pocket, she stepped onto the back, fumbling the key into the lock with frozen fingers.

  Taking one last look over her shoulder, she ushered the dog on board before dashing down the steps, closing the door and locking it then backing off, her hands shaking, her heart racing as she blew out a heavy sigh of relief.

  22

  Lasser watched from the snow-covered field as Dorothy Marsh stood at the grimy conservatory window, a smile of serenity on her pale face.

  'Christ, she looks thrilled that the old man's dead,' Spenner commented with a frown.

  Lasser looked at the dilapidated house, the roof sagging, the window frames rotten, the mortar crumbling between the brickwork. Even the soft sculpting of the snow couldn't disguise the awful state of the place.

  'Stay here while I go and have a word,' Lasser said as he set off for the back of the house.

  Spenner blew into his cupped hands before lifting the collar of his jacket against the cold air and turning away from the body sprawled in the snow.