The house Jo and Byrd went to was in the latter category. Uniformed police officers had already arrived and set up a cordon down the street and were moving residents out of those houses in the immediate area. As Jo looked around, she mostly saw frightened young women dressed in clothing thrown on for warmth or comfort. Three young women in tears were huddled around the open back of an ambulance.
‘Looks like the other residents of the house,’ Jo said to Byrd. ‘We’ll talk to them after we’ve viewed the scene. Just makes sure they don’t go anywhere would you?’
As Byrd moved away, Jo shrugged her way into protective clothing. Stood by the front door, she took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what lay ahead. Viewing murder scenes never got any easier, she decided. Maybe the day they all merged into one another and she stopped feeling anything, well that would be the day she left the force. But that was still a long way off. While she had the determination to protect the people of Chichester in particular, and West Sussex in general, she would carry on with her mission. At times it was a very heavy burden, especially since the escalation of her ‘gift’. Jo had only just recovered her equilibrium from her vision of Suki’s attack and now she was being thrust back into another heart-wrenching crime scene. At least Suki was lucky, Jo reflected. She was still alive.
Once Byrd joined her and was ready in his own protective garb, he gave Jo details of the dead girl. ‘We think her name is Tess,’ he said. ‘A student at Chichester Uni who is a prostitute on the side. Same story as Suki, she needed the money to be able to continue with her studies. Aged 20, from Norfolk.’
‘Oh God,’ said Jo. ‘Come on, let’s do this,’ and they proceeded into the house, their features and characteristics made androgynous by the outfits they wore. Jo thought someone would be hard pressed to tell which was which. Masks covered their faces, hoods covered all their hair, bulky plastic suits did nothing for their body shape and gloves and bootees covered their hands and feet. All obscuring any defining features.
They moved into the house and slowly climbed the stairs, suits rustling at every step. The stairs were narrow and steep, and Jo held onto the railing as she climbed, although that didn’t seem very stable, wobbling perilously under her grasp. Once on the landing, they were called forward by Bill, towards the back bedroom. Sliding their way in past him, they both stood against the wall, looking at, but not touching, the crime scene.
A young woman, who the housemates believed was Tess, was sprawled, face downward across the bed, with legs dangling onto the floor. The bottom half of her body was naked, and the top half covered in part by a ripped blouse and a tattered bra. She looked like a broken life-sized doll or marionette, disjointed and lifeless. She’d been wearing a white wig, which was slipping off her head revealing mousy brown hair underneath.
‘Do we know what Tess was wearing tonight?’
‘The girls weren’t sure about the clothes, but all three said she was wearing her white wig. It was her trademark, if you like. She always wore it when she was ‘on the job’ as they put it,’ said Byrd.
Jo nodded. ‘Looks like that’s her then. When we get back out in the street, see if the girls have contact details for Tess’ family. Otherwise we’ll have to wait for forensics to finish with her room.’
‘Yes, Boss.’
The pathologist, Jeremy Grogan, was stood by the body and looked up as they filed in. ‘There is obvious evidence of a particularly vicious attack,’ he said, not bothering with a greeting. ‘She was raped. The attacker wasn’t wearing a condom, as you can see tracks of semen down her thighs.’
‘How did she die?’ Jo asked, although she was pretty sure she knew.
‘Strangled, is my initial impression. She’s got bruising to her neck.’
‘Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her,’ said Byrd. ‘After all, Suki’s still alive.’
‘My thoughts too,’ agreed Jo.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s the same attacker,’ said Bill, who had processed Suki’s room after Jo and Byrd had left.
‘Because?’
‘Because when I arrived, the lights were off in the room. There was flickering candlelight from that Halloween pumpkin, over there on the other side of the bed. Just like the last one. Oh and there’s a message pinned to it.’
Jo manoeuvred her way past Jeremy and approached the pumpkin. Sure enough there was a note pinned to it. Jo squatted down and then read aloud, ‘And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters. And the angels, the children of the heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.’
Chapter 21
Jo and Byrd got out of the room and left the house. As they emerged into the night, Harry Sykes was just suiting up.
‘Sir,’ Jo acknowledged.
‘Ah, Jo and Eddie. I’m just going to take a look at the scene. Wait for me here.’
A bit abrupt, but Jo gave her boss the benefit of the doubt. After all he was going to view a dead body. But Jo resented the instruction all the same.
While they waited, she showed Byrd the photograph with the message on.
‘It’s a lot longer than the first,’ Byrd said.
‘Yes, I wonder why?’
‘Is it tied in with the first, then? This Book of Enoch.’
‘I guess so. I’ve sent Sasha and Jill a photo of the message and they are working on that back at the office.’
‘Are we thinking its biblical?’
‘I’d say so, but I don’t remember the Book of Enoch being in the bible.’
‘Didn’t know you were religious, Boss.’
Jo grinned. ‘You know damn well I’m not, Eddie. Spiritual maybe. Religious? Not a chance.’
‘Neither am I,’ said a voice.
‘Neither are you what, Sir?’ said Jo as Sykes walked up to them.
‘Religious. Are you thinking it’s some nut job trying to rid Chichester of fallen women?’
‘No, that doesn’t feel right,’ said Byrd. ‘I’m more inclined to think the death of our girl here is more of an accident. Otherwise Suki would be dead as well.’
‘Good point, Sergeant,’ said Sykes. ‘What about this message?’
‘I’ve sent it over to Sasha to work on while we’re here.’
‘Good. Let me know if anything else urgent comes in.’
‘Yes, Sir. Where will you be?’ asked Jo.
Sykes looked at his watch. ‘It’s 9pm. I’m off home.’
As they watched Sykes walk away Byrd said, ‘Maybe he’s still got unpacking to do?’
‘Or maybe he’s just pulling rank. Reminding us that it’s our job to do the leg work.’ Either way Jo wasn’t impressed. Alex Crooks hadn’t been the most gifted of investigators, but at least he’d cared. He’d given all to the job and it cost him his marriage and ultimately his life. Jo wasn’t sure she could say the same for Sykes.
Chapter 22
It was 11pm, perilously close to the witching hour, when Jo’s mobile buzzed. She’d only been home for half an hour and she knew she should have been in bed, but was too wired to sleep and so had been building her own crime scene wall at home. Not that it was helping any. But then again, it was forcing her to recognise some of the similarities of the two scenes. The obvious ones of the pumpkin, the messages and positioning of the body which was the same way that Suki had been violated.
She had been halfway to the fridge to pour a glass of white wine which might help her sleep she’d reasoned, when she answered the call. Once she knew the reason behind it, she was thankful she’d only drunk herbal tea so far that night. There had been another attack, in close proximity to the other one on Lewis Road. The residents were in an uproar. Uniformed reinforcements were on their way, as the crowds were swelling and threatening to break through the cordons.
Flying through the streets in her red Mini Cooper, Jo’s imagination was running wild
. Or maybe not. It seemed that the pumpkin man, as she was beginning to think of him, had struck again. Three rapes in one night. She hoped to God this would be the last one, as their killer certainly seemed to have an affinity with Halloween. She couldn’t see the 1st of November having the same pull for him, as the 31st October did. At least she hoped not.
Jo pulled up at her third crime scene of the night, 15 minutes after leaving the house. A personal record for her. It was a good job she was in effect in a plain clothes police car, having had blues and twos fitted for just such occasions. Oh and she’d had to take the Advanced Driver’s Course, which she’d thoroughly enjoyed. Rather too much, according to her father, who turned a peculiar shade of puce when her passenger.
The ambulance crew were getting ready to transport the girl to hospital when Jo arrived. Byrd gave her the salient points of the case as they waited in the street. ‘Storm is aged 20, a sex worker on the side, as she puts it. The same story, she augments her student loans with her earnings as a prostitute.’
‘What state is she in?’
‘Pretty bad. She was beaten about the face and body and forcibly penetrated without a condom. The poor girl is terrified of having been given Aids or other such diseases. The paramedics don’t think any bones are broken, but she’s being taken in for treatment and a rape kit.’
‘Can she describe who did this to her?’
‘Not really, she was mumbling something about the fact that her client seemed to change halfway through.’
‘Change?’
Byrd nodded. ‘Yes, she said it was a though one person went back to her room with her, but a different one altogether raped her.’
‘And a pumpkin? Is there one?’
‘Yes, here’s a picture of it.’
Byrd handed Jo his mobile and she read:
‘I have begotten a strange son, different and unlike man, and resembling the sons of the God of Heaven; and his nature is different and he is not like us, and his eyes are as the rays of the sun, and his face is glorious.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘To be honest, Boss, I’ve no bloody idea. Oh, here comes Storm.’
Jo approached the back of the ambulance and smiled down at the girl on the gurney. She seemed covered in bruises and her face under the oxygen mask was bloody, her lips gashed and bleeding.
Jo leaned down to speak into her ear. ‘My name’s Jo and I’m going to find the beast who did this to you. I’ll see you at the hospital after you’ve been examined. Okay?’
The girl managed a small nod, more a blink of an eyelid than a movement of her head.
Jo turned away and had a coughing fit as she returned to Byrd.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
Jo nodded, then gasped a couple of deep breaths.
‘What the hell was that smell coming off Storm? It was as though she’d been rolling in a compost heap, or cow dung. Bloody hell.’ She fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and spat into it, trying to get the taste of it out of her mouth.
‘You’ll need something under your nose when we go up to her room.’
‘That bad?’
‘That bad,’ Byrd confirmed and Jo walked reluctantly after him as they went to dress in protective clothing.
Once upstairs, Bill and his one assistant were busy lifting prints and taking samples and photographs.
‘We’ve not removed anything yet,’ Bill told Jo. ‘I thought you’d want to see the scene first.’
Jo nodded. ‘Thanks, Bill, could you give us a minute?’
They moved out of the way so Jo and Byrd could enter. The room was only a small double. With a bed pushed into the corner, a pine chest of drawers and a wonky wardrobe in an alcove, it felt crammed. Byrd had been right about the smell. Jo wanted to throw up and then throw open a window but knew she couldn’t compromise the crime scene.
‘It’s the same as before,’ Byrd said. ‘Storm was subdued by being beaten there on the bed.’
Jo could see numerous patches of blood on the duvet cover. There was also some blood spatter on the wall. ‘What the hell was she hit with?’
‘Well that’s the thing, she said she thought it was just his fists. She doesn’t remember a weapon.’
‘If that’s the case our suspect’s hands will be a mess. And the pumpkin?’
‘Storm insists it’s not hers. She doesn’t know how it got there. But she thought the customer might have had a bag with him.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, so she says.’
Jo filed that one away, to be examined later. Pumpkins don’t just appear out of thin air. Although Jo knew there were stranger things than that in the world and she’d encountered some of them. Her scalp prickled at the thought that the Pumpkin Man might not be a man at all.
‘Okay, I’ve seen enough. Thanks, Bill, you can finish up now.’
Bill nodded and went back to work.
Jo and Byrd disrobed and then he asked, ‘What next?’
Jo had to decide between visiting the mortuary or visiting Storm. She chose the living over the dead. After all, the body wasn’t going anywhere and she didn’t want Storm to suddenly disappear before they’d talked to her.
‘The hospital to see Storm. Come on, follow me in your car.’
Chapter 23
They found the young girl in a private room at Chichester hospital, weeping softly and dabbing delicately at her tears, as the skin on her face was no doubt very sore, being swollen, full of scratches and cuts.
‘Hi, Storm,’ Jo said. ‘Remember me? I’m Jo and this is Eddie Byrd.’
Storm nodded and sniffed.
‘Do you know who did this to you?’
She nodded.
Jo took a deep breath trying to calm herself. It couldn’t be this easy could it?
‘A bloke called John.’
Jo’s heart sank and she shared a secret smile with Byrd. Oh well.
But then Storm said, ‘John Holt. He lives near me.’
‘Has he been a client before?’ said Byrd.
‘Yes,’ nodded Storm. ‘That’s why I don’t understand what happened. He’s never been like… like… this!’ Storm’s weeping escalated to crying.
‘Storm, where near you? It’s really important.’
She sniffed but looked at Byrd. ‘Alexandra Road don’t know what number, but it’s one of the nicer looking houses opposite the park. It’s been renovated and made into flats and bedsits.’
‘Thanks,’ Jo said and patted Storm’s hand as it lay on the sheet.
The scene flashed in front of Jo’s eyes and seared itself on the back of her eyelids. She stifled a scream at the suddenness of it all. She saw Storm’s small bedroom. She was with her client on the bed. But that wasn’t what had caught Jo’s attention. There was a large body, or form, or something, hovering over Storm and John, as though dangling from the ceiling by hidden wires, or rope, or something. Whatever it was, nothing like that should have been in Storm’s bedroom. It filled the ceiling, ripples coursing through its body, pulsing, growing stronger with each beat. Fear ran down Jo’s spine and her breath came in fast spurts. She could feel the evil emanating from the being.
In her vision she shouted, to warn Storm, but of course that didn’t work. She was a bystander, a documenter, not a participant. Then, with a roar, the being dropped down and entered the man on the bed with Storm, who was presumably John Holt. Jo watched as the two became one. She felt so sorry for poor Storm. She hadn’t stood a chance against whoever it was, whatever it was. The best description of it that Jo could come up with was black. Which didn’t help at all. She just had the impression of a black coat and large black hat and for some reason she was reminded of a scarecrow, those things that sat in the fields in the spring, unnoticed by humans but a deterrent against the birds, who viewed him as human.
Jo had seen enough. She pulled her hand back, managed a small smile at Storm and hurried to catch up with Byrd. She wasn’t at all sure she liked this escalation
in her gift (or curse, definitely a curse at the moment). She’d had more control when it was just the last thoughts and actions of the dead. But now, being able to read from living human beings, well Jo wasn’t so sure she liked that at all. She kept being ambushed by her gift and she felt like she had no control over it. Maybe she needed to talk this through with Keith Thomas, her guide and teacher in the spiritualist church.
But that was for another day. For now they needed to catch this John Holt.
Jo hurried after Byrd, all thoughts of going home for the night banished. It looked like they would be pulling an all-nighter. First, they needed to speak to Storm’s doctor and then try and find John Holt.
Chapter 24
Abbey struggled awake. She’d been having a dream about being on the water. Swimming in it? She didn’t think so. Walking by it? Yes, maybe, that sounded better. She was walking along a tow path somewhere., She didn’t know where and then she’d slipped. Her foot had slid away from her and she landed with a thump, not on the tow path, but in the water. How strange! Even stranger, she could still feel the water. She was sitting in puddles of it. The bed felt drenched.
Not knowing if she was awake or dreaming, Abbey put her hands beneath the duvet and felt around. The bed was wet. It wasn’t just a dream. She really was sitting in water. Oh my God! Water! Her waters had broken. She’d been watching television in bed and nodded off during the news. She had to get to hospital, she knew that. But how? It didn’t seem right to call an ambulance, there must be another way.
Abbey swung her legs off the bed and sat on the edge. She was in no pain yet. She was just wet through. Thinking back to the baby book she’d been reading, there was no immediate danger, to either her or the baby, but she should make her way to the hospital to prevent any infection while her labour progressed. Stripping off her sopping tee-shirt and knickers, she managed to clamber her way into a new pair of pants and slip a maternity dress over her head. Feeling better already, she grabbed her mobile. Perhaps she should call a taxi. But she didn’t want to rush there just yet.
Watching the Dead Page 6