by M K Farrar
“Yes, police,” Natalie blurted. “I need the police. Two people have been murdered.”
“One moment, please, I’m putting you through.”
She waited for them to link the call.
A second female voice sounded in her ear. “Police emergency. What is your problem, caller?”
“It’s my neighbours. They’ve both been murdered. They’ve been stabbed, and there’s blood everywhere.” She was aware she was vaguely hysterical, words pouring from her mouth before she’d even thought them through. The bloodied, staring face of Mina’s corpse kept pushing its way into her mind.
“What’s your name and address?”
She told the call handler and then added, “But I’m in the flat upstairs. That’s where the—” She sucked in a breath and swallowed. “Where the bodies are.”
“Stay on the phone with me, Natalie. I’ve got someone on their way. They were already right around the corner from you, so they won’t be long.”
She yelped a sob of relief.
“Is anyone else there with you?”
She sniffed and dragged the sleeve of her jacket across her nose. “No, it’s only me.”
“So, the person who did this has gone? You’re safe?”
Natalie nodded, even though the call handler wouldn’t be able to see her. “Yes, I think so. I haven’t seen anyone else. I just came up here and found them like this.”
“Okay, just try to stay calm. Someone will be with you really soon.”
She did her best to take slow breaths, but she was gasping like she was drowning.
Heavy thuds came at the front door, and then the bell rang.
“Oh, I think the police are here. I need to answer the door.”
“Okay, but there’s no need to hang up. Just place the phone down, and I’ll stay on the line in case you need me.”
“Thank you.” It was good to know someone was there, even if they were just a faceless person on the end of a telephone line. Her voice was wobbly. “I’m going to answer the door now.”
Carefully, she placed the handset on the side table and rose to her feet. Her legs didn’t feel as though they belonged to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and held back another sob, preparing herself to go back into the hallway where Sajad’s body still lay. Her need to have the police here won over her fear however, and she forced herself out of the living room and into the hallway. The bell rang again, followed by more banging, and she jumped, her heart pounding.
Deliberately keeping her face averted, so she didn’t need to look at the body, she stepped over it and then picked up her pace. She almost fell down the stairs in her desperation to get to the front door. She must have closed it behind her when she’d come in.
How crazy to think that only fifteen minutes or so ago, her world had been relatively normal. Now everything felt like it was in a spin.
She reached the front door and yanked it open to reveal two police officers standing on the doorstep.
“Oh, thank God,” she blurted, going weak with relief.
“Natalie Anders?” the female officer asked.
“Yes. Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m DI Kilman, and this is DS Hatcher,” she continued, nodding to her male colleague. “You’ve reported the deaths of two people?”
“Yes, they’re in the flat upstairs.”
She stepped out of the way to allow the two officers inside. DS Hatcher raced up the stairs—she assumed to check if Mina and Sajad were still alive and could be helped in some way.
“Can you tell me what happened?” DI Kilman asked.
Natalie nodded and told her everything she knew.
She glanced around. “Where do you live?”
Natalie pointed at the front door of her own flat.
“Are you on your own?”
Natalie nodded. “Yes, I live by myself.”
“I’ll go and check it for you,” she offered. “Make sure it’s safe, so you can wait in there.”
“Thank you.”
The police officer was really saying she was making sure the killer wasn’t lying in wait for her, though Natalie suspected that if he had been, he would have made a swift retreat by now. The street was filling up with flashing blue lights, and an ambulance had also arrived, though she could see little use for it. It wasn’t as though they could help Mina or Sajad.
Other neighbours were also emerging from their houses, clearly woken by the commotion and wondering what was going on. They had dressing gowns wrapped around their bodies and concerned but curious expressions on their faces. Could any of them be responsible for what had happened? Had Mina or Sajad fallen out with one of the other neighbours and they’d done this horrific thing and then gone back to their beds? She was sure she’d watched a true crime show that said the killer liked to watch the aftermath of their crime. Wouldn’t living right across the road allow them to do that?
She opened the door to her flat, and DI Kilman slipped inside. Natalie waited, her hand at her mouth, until she returned.
“It’s safe for you to wait in there,” DI Kilman said. “We’re going to need to ask you a couple of questions?”
“Of course.”
She went into her flat, relieved to be surrounded by her own things. DS Hatcher came down and walked in, his expression grim, and he gave a brief shake of his head at his colleague. Mina and Sajad were definitely dead. She hadn’t been mistaken. Not knowing what else to do, she perched on the edge of the sofa, while the two police officers continued to stand.
DI Kilman took a small notepad from her pocket. “Did you know the victims well?”
Natalie shook her head, her knuckles pressed to her lips. “No, I didn’t. I barely spoke to the man, but the woman, Mina, would always stop and chat.”
“Can you think of anyone who might want to do this to them?”
“No! God, no. Not at all. I mean, I don’t really know anything about their lives. Sajad was an apprentice plumber, I believe, and I’m not even sure what Mina did. Like I said, I barely knew them.”
She suddenly felt ashamed for her lack of community spirit. She should have made more effort with them. Maybe if she had, none of this would have happened. It was a crazy idea, but one she couldn’t prevent creeping into her head. Of course, she’d have had no way of stopping whoever had done this terrible thing—she hadn’t even been in the building when they’d been killed.
“And there was no sign of anyone else in the property when you got back?”
“No, they were already dead, and whoever did this had gone. I was at work when it happened, so I didn’t see or hear anything.”
“Hmm.” DI Kilman looked to her colleague. “Maybe one of the other neighbours will have heard something.”
“The walls are thin,” Natalie said, happy to have the attention directed away from her. “It’s possible.”
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye to drip off the end of her nose. How terrifying their final moments must have been. Had the killer murdered Mina first and then come for Sajad? Or had Sajad been trying to protect Mina, and the killer had thrown her on the bed before he’d killed her? Either way, one of them had died before the other, so the surviving person must have known their loved one was being killed and that they were next. She couldn’t imagine the kind of terror and grief they must have gone through in their final moments.
“Can we call someone for you?” DI Kilman asked gently. “Is there somewhere you can go? I’m afraid this building is a crime scene now, and you won’t be able to stay, though of course we’re going to need to ask you to come down to the station and answer some more questions.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything more to tell.”
“You might think that now, but you’re in shock. It’s amazing what comes back after you’ve had a chance to calm down a little. Even things that you didn’t think were important could prove to be a vital clue into figuring out who did this—and you do want to find out who did this, don’t you, Natalie?”<
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She could hardly disagree with the officer, so she nodded dumbly.
She couldn’t call her parents. They already worried about the area she lived in, and that she lived alone. She knew they’d find out about this eventually—it would be on the news, for sure, and reporters were bound to be around asking questions—but they didn’t need to find out in the middle of the night. Her dad would insist on driving up, and she didn’t want him to do that. She remembered how tired he’d looked when she’d visited, and this was the last thing they needed. She didn’t think she could handle being around them when she’d somehow ended up connected to another death either. This was nothing like what had happened to Anthony, but anything and everything would remind her parents of her dead ‘brother’, and she didn’t have the mental or emotional strength to cope with that right now.
“Yes, my boyfriend. I can call him. He’ll come and get me.”
Boyfriend? He wasn’t really. They’d only been on a handful of dates and hadn’t even slept together yet. But still, out of all the people she could think of, his was the name that jumped into her head. The one she wanted to be with.
“Do you want me to call him for you?” the officer offered kindly.
“Oh, I don’t know the number off the top of my head. It’s in my phone. I left it in my handbag on the table near the front door.”
DI Kilman nodded at her colleague, who jerked his chin in response and then turned to vanish in search of the handbag and phone.
DS Hatcher returned with her bag only moments later, and Natalie delved inside and located the phone. Her hands were still shaking badly as she pulled up his number and hit ‘call’.
Kyle answered the phone after only a couple of rings, but his voice was thick with sleep. “Hello? Natalie?”
Upon hearing his voice, she burst into tears. She clamped her hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her emotions, but that only resulted in a strange yelping noise.
“Natalie? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Concern blanketed his tone.
Jesus, it was gone two in the morning. She had to speak and tell him she was all right, or he was going to think she was the one who’d been hurt.
“Can...can you come to mine? My upstairs neighbours have been murdered, and I don’t have anyone else to call.” She realised how pathetic that sounded, but for once, she didn’t care.
“Christ. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Will you be all right until then?”
“Yes. The police are here, too. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
She hung up and looked up at the police officer, who was watching the call. “He’s on his way.”
DI Kilman nodded down to Natalie’s feet. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to bag those as evidence, as well as the rest of your clothes.”
Natalie glanced down. The toes of her boots were covered in blood.
Chapter Ten
Natalie perched on the edge of her sofa, her fingers at her mouth as she chewed on her nails—a habit she’d stopped some time ago. The police moved around her, occasionally asking questions, which she answered, while not quite feeling a part of herself. It was as though she’d distanced her brain from her body.
Finally, the headlights of another car swept down the street and then flicked to darkness as it pulled up outside. There was a commotion, and her name was shouted. “Natalie? Nat! It’s Kyle.”
“It’s okay, you can let him through,” DI Kilman. “Just make sure he has booties and gloves on.”
Wearing the required items so he didn’t contaminate the shared hallway, Kyle pushed through the officers protecting the scene from the public.
Shakily, she got to her feet.
“Jesus, Nat. Come here.”
It was so good to see him, she sagged with relief. She fell into his arms and he scooped her against him, his hands in her hair and around her back, holding her tight. She pressed her face to his chest and cried while he held her and made shushing noises.
Natalie managed to pull herself back together. “I’m okay. Sorry. It was a shock, that’s all. I’m exhausted as well. I could really do with going to bed.” She was embarrassed at her display of emotion.
He stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Bloody hell, Nat. You can’t stay here.”
“He’s right,” DI Kilman agreed. “This is a crime scene now, I’m afraid. If you had your own entrance to the flat, you’d be able to stay, but we can’t have you potentially interfering with any evidence that might be in the entrance hall and on the stairs. It’ll all be cordoned off.”
Kyle’s jaw was tight. “It’s okay. She can come back with me.”
“Is that all right with you, Miss Anders?” DI Kilman asked her in concern.
Natalie wiped her face and nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“You can pack a bag to take with you—supervised, I’m afraid—then we will need you to come down to the station in the morning so we can take a statement and you can provide your fingerprints for elimination purposes.”
“I’ll bring her down,” Kyle said.
She didn’t think there were many hours until morning, but she needed to get some sleep. She had a headache starting right behind her eyes, and her legs felt like jelly.
She was supposed to work the lunch shift the next day, but she’d have to phone Phil and tell him what had happened. Even a heartless son of a bitch like Phil would have to give her the day off after something like this had happened.
Under the watchful eye of the DI, she grabbed a change of clothes and some toiletries and threw them into a bag. She didn’t need much, and right now she couldn’t think any further ahead than a day or two.
Kyle ushered her into the car and threw her bag on the back seat. She kept her eyes focused on her hands in her lap, not wanting to look at either the place where her neighbours had been murdered, or any of the other neighbours who were standing in their doorways and peering out of windows as though they’d found themselves in the middle of a live television show.
She didn’t even glance up as Kyle started the engine and pulled away.
By the time they got back to his house, she still hadn’t said a word. He seemed to understand her need for silence and didn’t force her to talk about what had happened.
She had no idea when she was going to be able to get back into her flat. How long did crime scenes stay crime scenes? Would it be days or weeks? She should have asked the police officer before she’d left but then she remembered she’d be seeing them again in the morning anyway, when she went to give her statement.
He opened the passenger door for her, and she finally tore her gaze from her lap. She was back in Kinnaird Crescent—the quiet neighbourhood where nothing much happened. The new-build street was unmarked by the passage of time. It was all so clean and perfect. Maybe it should bring her some comfort, but all she could think of was the amount of blood that had been in the flat.
Kyle picked her bag up from the back seat and carried it inside the house. She followed him in but felt as though she was there in body alone.
“I’m sorry to impose myself on you,” she said, finally breaking her silence. “You were the first person I thought to call.”
He reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “I like that I was the first person you thought of, and you’re no imposition.”
“Hopefully, I’ll be able to go back into my flat within a couple of days.”
He stared at her, lines appearing between his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t actually go back to live there after what’s happened?”
“I have to. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
The idea of the horror that must have taken place right above where she slept every night sent chills through her.
He pressed his lips together and then said, “You can stay with me as long as you like.”
“That’s really kind of you, Kyle, but I can’t expect to take you up on an offer like that. We’ve only just met.”
Emotion overwhelmed her. How had she ended up so lucky to have a man like him come into her life?
“I feel it, too,” she admitted. “That connection we have.”
He smiled at her and nodded, and then his fingers were under her chin, tilting her mouth to his. He kissed her, and she forgot all the horror of the bodies she’d found, pushed it from her mind as best she could. It was better to be kissing this gorgeous man, to press her body to his and focus on those sensations, instead.
His hand left her chin and slid down the front of her body, tracing the curve of her breast. Then they were both moving together, with Kyle leading the way up the stairs, almost tripping over each other in their haste. The kiss grew deeper, frantic, desperate, and they stumbled into the bedroom. He dragged her t-shirt up over her head, and she did the same to him, baring his chest. There was no light on in the bedroom—the only glow coming from the hallway—but it didn’t matter.
Then they were on the bed, and his hands found the button of her jeans, and he was pulling them down her thighs.
Natalie gasped, his lips and tongue tracing her stomach, working his way down. She fisted her fingers in his hair and arched her hips to meet him. He moved back up her body again, ridding himself of his jeans as he did so, and then he was inside her, and they were moving as one, lips against lips, breathing each other in.
Natalie cried out, her eyes squeezed shut, and did her best not to see streaks of blood painted on the inside of her eyelids.
Chapter Eleven
It took a moment when she woke to remember where she was, but then the events of the early hours tumbled back to her. Finding the bodies of Mina and Sajad. Kyle coming to pick her up. The sex when they’d got back to the house.
They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but he wasn’t in the bed now.
Natalie sat up, taking in her surroundings. The bedroom was plush, with a thick cream carpet and heavy lined curtains in dark blue that dropped right to the floor. The bed was huge, with a padded headboard that probably cost as much as her entire bed.