The Wilderness Murders: DI Giles Book 16 (DI Giles Suspense Thriller Series)

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  A routine patrol car had found a couple, shot several times with a suspected twelve-bore. Both victims had died.

  The DI jumped to her feet, wide awake. “Hell!”

  “Are you okay?” Tasha blinked in the light from the bedside lamp. “By that, I mean what’s up?”

  “A young couple shot to death. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  She didn’t even stop for a coffee, throwing on her clothes before scooting out of the door.

  Forensic officers were already on site as she parked behind an ambulance on the main road and followed the long line of police vehicles to the murder scene.

  DCI Llewelyn strode over to her, his coat strobe-lit by the multitude of flashing lights. “They died sometime between eleven and two-fifteen,” he informed her. “A patrol car first spotted the couple’s car in the lay-by, just before eleven. The officers said the occupants appeared alive and well. They assumed it was a couple of lovebirds, looking over the town, and moved on.”

  “Who called it in?” Yvonne asked, donning a plastic suit and overshoes.

  “The same patrol. They dealt with a couple of minor incidents in town, and were heading back towards Llandrindod, when they noticed the car still there. This time, the doors were wide open, and there was a body on the ground. That was at two-sixteen. Both victims were fully clothed.”

  Yvonne grimaced. “It’s likely they died closer to eleven, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I would think so. I don’t believe they would have stayed up her for more than an hour, at most, if they hadn’t encountered their killer.”

  As the DI approached, her torchlight revealed the bloodied head of the girl slumped forward onto the dashboard.

  The boy had survived long enough to stumble out of the car.

  “Shot him twice with a shotgun,” the DCI explained.

  “So the killer reloaded.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “What kind of cold-blooded maniac-”

  “I think ballistics will be keen to work with this. There could be a link with the Ridgeway case.”

  She nodded, her face muscles taut. “I worried he might strike again.”

  “The public will panic. We must do what we can to allay their fears, but we should issue an advisory for anyone intending excursions into the wilds.”

  Yvonne pulled a face. “This is hardly the wilds, sir. We’re barely seven miles out of town. And that’s what worries me. If this is the same killer, he’s not afraid of us, is he? We’ve had increased patrols in the area since the Ridgeway killings. He must have known he was risking discovery.” She cast her eyes over the male victim, who lay face-down in the dirt, the back of his right hand covered in blood, as was his back.

  She turned her attention back to the female.

  “He shot the girl once to the back of the head, from up close,” he said, reading her thoughts.

  She pressed her lips together. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Neither of them did.”

  “It’s an old car.” Yvonne took a step back, surveying the vehicle.

  “Looks like a restored Ford Corsair.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Someone’s pride and joy.”

  A hazmat-suited crime scene officer returned to his work on the girl.

  “Do we have their identities?” She asked him.

  He shook his head. “We found nothing — no purse, wallet, ID. All we found was a bag of bits from McDonalds. If you ask uniform over there, they may help. They were going to run the reg through the PNC.”

  “Thanks.” She thought about completing her own vehicle check to save herself the walk, but decided against it. Control probably had enough on their plate, and besides, it would do no harm to speak with the officers who first discovered the couple.

  “The vehicle check identified the owner as being a Hugh Davies, whose address is in Llanwnog, near Caersws.” The constable rubbed his forehead. “I’m betting that’s his son lying there,” he added with a sigh. “I’m glad it’s not me delivering the news.”

  Yvonne nodded. “It’s a hellish thing, revealing the death of someone’s child, no matter how old they are.” She glanced back at the car. “How far would you say Llanwnog is from here? About twelve miles?”

  “About that.”

  “Murdered twelve miles from home… Frightening.”

  9

  Dark days

  The atmosphere around the murder investigation was frenetic.

  Many journalists descended on the station, pressing every officer who passed them for updates.

  The morning’s briefing was a sombre affair, lacking the usual playful banter.

  The DI perused her team’s stony faces, knowing exactly how they felt. “I know how hard this is for everyone here. I’d just like to remind you all that you are doing the best you can, and to remember to keep things in perspective, no matter what you see in the newspapers. They will look for someone to blame for this latest tragedy, but we will continue to do our jobs, and find the killer or killers responsible. Trust in that, and in yourselves.”

  She took a deep breath before continuing. “As you know, last night, we found the bodies of a teenage couple, on the hills above Dolfor. We have now identified them as seventeen-year-old Kyle Davies from Llanwnog, and his girlfriend Brianna Horton, also seventeen, from Newtown. Both were sixth-form students at Newtown High School. They had parked at the murder site in a restored Ford Corsair belonging to Kyle’s father, Hugh Davies. Preliminary ballistics suggest the killer was the same person who murdered the Paynes on the Kerry Ridgeway. Clearly, the papers are going to want to know what progress we have made, and why we could not stop this second double murder. They won’t be kind. We’re going to have to suck it up, and continue doing our jobs. I know you’ll do what’s necessary to bring this killer to justice.”

  She handed the floor to Dewi, who cleared his throat. “We found no personal items in the car, or on the bodies of Kyle and Brianna, not even mobile phones. Robbery could be a motive, however we should keep an open mind, because he appears to be the Paynes’ killer too, and there may have been a sexual element to Seren Payne’s murder. Although we think the killer took their wallet and purse, he has not yet used their bank cards. He may bide his time before taking money out but, like I say, the motive for both killings is unclear as things stand.” The DS pushed his hands deep into his trouser pockets, hunching his shoulders. “One thing I think I can say with some certainty, if not stopped, this murderer will strike again. Dive into the backgrounds of the two couples. Did they know each other? Did they have anything in common? If not, what made the killer choose them?”

  Callum waved a paper in the air. “A member of the public reported seeing a Land Rover up on the Ridgeway, the night before the three boys found the rucksack. The vehicle had prominent spotlights on top of the cab.”

  Yvonne frowned. “Ieuan Jones’s father has a Land Rover with extra lights fitted. He brought his son to interview in it.”

  “Wasn’t he one of the boys who found the rucksack?” Callum frowned.

  “He was, and we found the DNA from all three of the boys on the outside of the bag, but not on the inside. However, the specks of blood found near the seams, did not match any of them.” The DI pursed her lips. “Neither does it match with the Paynes, or anyone currently in the national database. The blood may have resulted from an accident, but the bag’s precise placement on the Ridgeway trail at the same time as these double murders began, is suspect. So, we treat it as potential evidence, until we know otherwise. Anyone who needs to see it, should sign and date the evidence sheet, as they would any other evidence.”

  Dewi chimed in. “Chase up SOCO about the tyre tracks they found near the Paynes’ campsite. Could they belong to the Land Rover seen with the spotlights on top?”

  Yvonne nodded. “I realise we have a mountain of enquiry lines to follow up, but we will get there. We must. Lives are depending on it.”

  “Are you going to question
Ieuan Jones about the Land Rover seen on the Ridgeway?” Dewi asked her after the briefing.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. When I do, he’ll need an appropriate adult present. I’d like to speak to his father to find out more about their shotgun use, and whether he has noticed ammunition missing. Does anybody else have access to the gun cabinet? We need to know more about that family, and Ieuan’s gun use.”

  “Want me to come with you? If they have weapons, you shouldn’t go there on your own.”

  She nodded. “Thanks, Dewi. We’ll take vests, and perhaps you can wear a body cam. If this family are involved in something, I don’t want to frighten them into getting rid of evidence. We don’t know there is criminal activity going on there, but something around that rucksack smells. We don’t have enough to request a warrant to seize their guns, but my hackles are raised.”

  “I agree, we’ll have a poke around.”

  Jones’ hundred acre farm lay between Newtown and Welshpool, bordering the main road. It comprised mixed agriculture, boasting dairy and beef cattle, sheep, and arable land. The house was one mile from Bettws.

  It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the farm, where Carwyn greeted them in the courtyard. The farmstead showed signs of expansion over the previous decades, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the many barns. Some bore the straight lines and spacious layouts of the modern era, while the roof timbers of others sagged in the middle, and their brick-work cried out for repointing.

  The main house had similar older and newer parts, the work of generations of Davies farmers.

  Carwyn was small, at about five-feet-five. Portly, with facial stubble, a tweed cap, and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he was every inch a man of the land.

  He held out his hand. “Good morning.” He had a North-Wales lilt. “Pleased to meet you.”

  She accepted the offered hand, as did Dewi, who greeted Carwyn first in Welsh, then English.

  Carwyn appeared comfortable with both. “So what brings you out to see me, then?” He asked, whistling to one of the working dogs, who ran through the yard to join two others near their kennel.

  He turned his attention back to the officers.

  Sweat beaded on the DI’s forehead and upper lip as the sun beamed down on the yard. She resisted the urge to lick it off, instead removing her mac and placing it over one arm, grateful for the light breeze that cooled the small of her back, helped by the damp patch in her blouse. That morning’s weather report had stated that the temperature might reach the low thirties centigrade. This wasn’t a prospect she relished.

  She cleared her throat. “You know that your son Ieuan, and his friends, reported a rucksack to us last week.”

  “Oh aye, he told me about it.” Carwyn adjusted the hat on his head. “Did you find the owner?”

  “No, I’m afraid we haven’t yet.”

  “Oh, dear… Do you want to speak to Ieuan?” He turned towards the house. “Come into the kitchen, it’ll be cooler in there.”

  “We would appreciate a quick word with him, but we’d like to speak with you first, if you have the time.”

  They followed him towards the house.

  “Well, sure.” He eyed her, open-mouthed. “What is it you’re wanting to know?” He stopped short of the home.

  “We’re carrying out routine enquiries with potential witnesses to a double murder that took place on the Kerry Ridgeway. Did you hear about it?”

  He grimaced. “I saw it on the news, and Ieuan said you spoke to him about it when he went to the station. It was awful what happened to that couple. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about it.”

  “It was bad, yes.”

  “Do you think Ieuan saw something? He says he knows nothing about it.”

  “He may have seen something without realising the importance of it.”

  Carwyn frowned. “But they found the rucksack the day after the murders, didn’t they? Was the murderer still up there?”

  “We don’t know. It’s possible,” Dewi answered. “We came to ask you and your son about your Land Rover.”

  The farmer’s forehead furrowed. “What about it?”

  “We understand you have one with powerful spotlights on top of the cab.” The DS cast his eyes about the yard.

  “I have one like that, yes.”

  Yvonne tilted her head. “Someone saw it on the Ridgeway, the night before your son found the backpack.”

  “Oh…” Carwyn rubbed his chin. “Are you sure? Your witnesses could be confused. They might have seen it another time. I think Ieuan drove it up there a few nights before, taking his friends up the Anchor,” he said, referring to another local landmark with its own pub. “I don’t think he was up there the night before they found the rucksack.”

  “Our witnesses said the vehicle was in the car park near Block Wood.”

  Carwyn shook his head. “I’m pretty sure it was round the back with the other vehicles that evening.”

  “What about Ieuan, do you know where he was?”

  The farmer folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. “He was in his room watching telly.”

  “Are you sure about that? Did you look in on him at any point?”

  “I might have done. I can’t remember. We’d have noticed him leaving the house. We’d have heard the door bang. What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me that my boy might have been up the Ridgeway at the same time as that couple's killer?”

  “Do you know where he was during the day?”

  “Well, he popped into Welshpool, and did a few bits round the farm when he got back. Pretty much his usual Saturday, really.”

  “So, he told you he’d been to Welshpool?”

  “I think he mentioned it, yeah.”

  “What time would that have been?” Out of the corner of her eye, the DI thought she saw a curtain move in the ground-floor window to her right. Whoever it was, they backed away as she turned to look.

  “Let’s see. I reckon it would have been about ten in the morning. Ieuan had done a few jobs round the farm, and had something to eat. He went out after that. Yes, I’d say about ten-ish.”

  “Do you know which vehicle he took?”

  Carwyn looked down at the concrete. “Can’t say I do. I didn’t go out that day, so I didn’t have cause to use the vehicles. I went round the farm, but I was on that.” He pointed to a quad bike parked in the corner of the yard. “I use the quad a lot, for checking on the animals. I only use the Land Rovers if I’m going into town, or I need to move feed around. The spotlights come in handy at night, when we’re looking for a sick or injured animal in the dark. I am sure we are not the only farm that uses them.”

  “Of course.” The DI nodded. “Is Ieuan in? Could we ask him about that Saturday, and his whereabouts?”

  The farmer hesitated. “I’m not sure if he’s in.”

  “I’m sorry, but you said you hear the door slam when he goes out? Did you hear the door?”

  “No.” Carwyn studied her face, his lips pressed together. “I’ll go inside and call him. Come into the kitchen.”

  The room he led them into was as large as Yvonne might have expected, given the impressive size of the farmhouse. A mix of modern and old, it boasted an Aga range, modern cupboards with a sleek white finish, an island that could seat eight people comfortably, and a three-metre-long window over the farmyard.

  Above, a bank of adjustable spotlights hung from parallel chrome bars. The kitchen was clean, with select bowls and plates on display on the countertops and walls. The flooring comprised Welsh slate.

  “Take a seat,” Carwyn directed, pointing to the island. “I’ll look for him.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled a bar stool out from the island and sat, grateful to take the weight off her hot feet.

  When the farmer returned, his son, hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, his neck almost disappearing between raised shoulders, accompanied him. Ieuan made only brief eye contact with the detectives.

  Dewi cast the
DI a glance.

  She nodded.

  The sergeant turned to Ieuan. “How are your summer holidays going? Enjoying your time off?”

  “They’re okay.” The teenager shrugged.

  “Have you seen much of your friends?”

  “Not for a couple of days.” He regarded the detective from beneath dark lashes.

  “Really? I thought you’d be making the most of the weather.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’d avoid going too far out of town, if I were you, given what’s been happening.” Dewi shot Carwyn a look before returning to Ieuan. “Do you remember the day you found the backpack on the Ridgeway?”

  “Of course.” He took his hands out of his pockets.

  “Were you up there the day before that? On the Friday?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Witnesses saw a Land Rover, exactly like your father’s, on the day we believe the murders took place.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.” He pulled a face. “Being in a place where murders happened doesn’t make you a killer. It makes you unlucky.”

  “So, you were there?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe… I was planning the route we were going to walk. I didn’t feel confident about it. I’ve only been driving for a few months, and I get lost. It’s embarrassing. So, I went up there the night before to check that I had worked it out correctly. It was a nice evening, and I would rather be out than in, on a night like that.”

  “Did you meet anyone else while you were up there? I’m told it was getting dark when witnesses saw your vehicle.”

  “I fell asleep in the truck. By the time I woke, it was late. I started the engine and drove back down.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I dunno, about ten? I went up there about seven.”

  “Did you see anyone else at all?”

  “I saw two or three people on the track.”

  “Can you describe them?”

  “Not really, I wasn’t taking much notice.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Oh, nearer seven, I would say.”