The Dee Valley Killings

by Simon McCleave

  Reaching the ridge, Ruth could now see an array of fluorescent jackets where the body had been found. The bright yellow of uniformed officers and the red jackets and white helmets of the Snowdon Mountain Rescue team. They crouched down beside a large stretcher made from lightweight steel tubes. Yellow police tape was being rolled out to mark off the area.

  From behind them, they could hear a deep whirring sound. Ruth looked around, slightly startled, as a rescue helicopter began to slowly hover. Its enormous central propeller created a downward force that flattened the grass and heathland, and even scattered the small shards of rock nearby.

  Ruth ducked a little against the wind as a uniformed officer approached. ‘DI Hunter and DS Evans. What have we got, Constable?’ Ruth shouted as she showed him her warrant card.

  ‘Unidentified male. Looks like he fell down that ridge. Paramedics have confirmed the man is deceased.’

  ‘Who found the body?’ Nick said as they walked away from the noise of the helicopter.

  ‘Middle-aged couple and their dog. I’ve got a statement and an address. The thing that bothers me is that the body looks like someone has hidden it, ma’am,’ the officer said.

  Ruth was confused. ‘I thought the man had fallen down the ridge?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. But, I’m just not how the body would have ended up where it was found,’ the officer explained.

  Ruth thought it was a strange observation but, in her experience, uniformed officers had an excellent instinct for when things just didn’t feel right.

  ‘Any ID?’ Nick asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, sir. I thought I shouldn’t touch anything until you guys got here,’ the officer explained.

  ‘Good. That’s great,’ Ruth reassured him with a smile. She had had overkeen wooden tops ruin a crime scene before, so she was pleased it had been left alone.

  ‘Let’s take a look.’ Nick gestured for them to go.

  As they went down the steep, rocky bank, Ruth placed her boots on the small rocks and tried to balance. She was a city girl, and this was not her idea of fun. If truth be told, heights terrified her, as did slipping and cracking open her skull. The descent seemed to take for ever. It was over seventy feet from the path to the bottom. She slid on the final loose rocks but eventually got down to where the ground was more level. She looked back up the ridge and wondered quite how she had got to the bottom without slipping. At least her journey back up would be more controlled.

  The clouds broke for a moment and the winter sun poured down.

  ‘Behind that rock, ma’am,’ the officer pointed.

  Ruth and Nick approached a huge grey boulder. It was grey dolerite and stood at about four feet high and six feet long, shaped like a ragged arch. However, because of how the ground undulated, it wasn’t until they went around the back that a man’s body, in a bright-blue Karrimor waterproof climbing jacket, became visible.

  Ruth immediately saw that the body was lying face down. She then looked back up the steep ridge and then at Nick.

  ‘What do you think?’ Ruth asked. She hoped he was thinking the same as her. Normally he did. The sun disappeared again, and the wind picked up and chilled her face and ears, numbing them.

  Nick frowned and looked up the sheer, stony incline. ‘Unless he crawled there after he fell, there’s no way that he fell down that and ended up behind this rock.’

  ‘Not unless he defied gravity.’ Definitely something not right about this scene of crime, Ruth thought.

  ‘And if you wanted to hide the body from the path, you would pull it behind that rock out of sight,’ Nick said, thinking out loud.

  Ruth took a moment as she surveyed the surrounding area again. It just didn’t add up. The body had been moved.

  Nick walked closer to the victim and crouched for a moment. The man’s ear and hair were matted with dark, congealed blood.

  ‘Okay. I’m going to get SOCO here. This whole scene doesn’t feel right, does it?’ Ruth said.

  ‘No, boss.’ But Nick’s thoughts were elsewhere. He had noticed a part of a dragon tattoo on the man’s wrist and the first inch of his forearm.

  ‘Boss?’ Nick said quietly.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I know the victim. He’s an old friend. Harvey Pearson.’

  CHAPTER 4

  The mid-week AA meeting took place in a large, cosy room that was attached to the university hospital’s detox unit. Two large scrolls that carried the ‘Twelve Steps’ and the ‘Twelve Traditions’ hung from the wall.

  Nick had been to the detox unit itself four times in recent years, and despite the promise of a withdrawal-symptom-free life, it hadn’t kept him away from alcohol.

  Standing at the table, Nick surveyed the plastic cups, tea, coffee and biscuits. Caffeine was now his drug of choice. He made himself a strong coffee and surveyed the room but he was distracted. He couldn’t get the image of Harvey Pearson’s cracked skull out of his head. They had gone to school together and Nick had been an usher at his wedding. He hadn’t seen Harv for a couple of years, except for a chance encounter by the booze aisle at a local supermarket. The usual laddish banter of ‘Not a surprise to see you on this aisle, Nick’ had ensued, but that was about the extent of their catch-up. He heard that Harv had got divorced and could be found every weekend ‘on the pull’ in town pestering women. Harv had always been ‘a player,’ even when he was married. That was common knowledge.

  What troubled Nick more though was the likelihood that someone had deliberately moved his body out of sight of the footpath up on Snowdon. Why? Had someone killed him? They were waiting for the post mortem and the forensic evidence back from the SOCOs. The whole thing had made him uneasy, and he had asked his Higher Power for some help with it.

  ‘Nick?’ an uncertain female voice asked from behind him.

  Nick turned to see an attractive woman in her late thirties, dark hair, olive skin and big brown eyes. Amanda Wheeler worked for Llancastell Social Services and she and Nick had met at various times through joint operations. She was on the Child Protection team, which Nick knew could be harrowing work.

  ‘Amanda?’ Nick said quietly. He then gestured for Amanda to move to a more discreet area. What was she doing there? He knew how much courage it took to get through the doors of an AA meeting. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m here, so ... no, not really. But I’m so glad to see you here.’ Amanda’s voice was trembling, and she seemed jittery.

  ‘Yeah. Good to see you too.’ Nick nodded compassionately. However hard he tried, Nick couldn’t help feeling a jolt of excitement. Amanda was attractive and whenever they had worked together, he had found himself fantasising about her afterwards. He had a quick word with himself. Focus on how you can help her, you twat, not how you can get into her knickers. ‘You think you have a problem with drink?’ he asked.

  Amanda looked away for a moment and then nodded. He could see it was difficult for her. ‘Yeah. I know I’ve got a problem with drink.’

  ‘First meeting?’ Nick asked. He was pretty certain it was.

  ‘Yeah,’ Amanda whispered with a frightened smile. She looked terrified.

  ‘Don’t worry. You’re in the right place. Come on, I’ll make you a coffee,’ Nick whispered. He knew how important the first meeting was to a ‘newcomer.’ If they didn’t find any identification with the group, they could go back out there and drink themselves to death. It was that serious. And over the years, Nick had seen hundreds come to their first meeting never to return. And he knew for a fact that some of them were dead, homeless or insane. As a police office, he had seen them on the streets.

  ‘How long have you ...?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘I’ve been around for a few years. But I’ve only been sober for three months.’

  ‘Only? Christ, sober for three days would be a miracle.’

  ‘I’ll talk to some of the women here and get you some phone numbers at the end. Try to get to as many meetings as you can. And just listen. You’re go
ing to feel scared, but no one is going to judge you. I promise. Everyone wants to help.’

  Amanda nodded. ‘Can I have your phone number then?’

  Nick would have loved to have given her his number but he knew the score. He pulled a face. ‘To be honest, the normal policy in AA is “men for men” and “women for women.” Makes things less complicated.’ Nick had seen sobriety destroyed by disastrous relationships or even casual sex that had started in AA.

  ‘Yeah, of course.’ Amanda seemed to be embarrassed.

  ‘Come on. Come and sit with me,’ Nick said with a friendly smile.

  They sat down together and the meeting started. Nick had told the group leader that Amanda was a newcomer and she was made to feel welcome.

  Nick listened to the main share, noting the points that would be useful for Amanda. Aware that it was Amanda’s first AA meeting, various others shared their experience of their first AA meetings. Nick did the same, hoping it would help her.

  The meeting ended with the Serenity Prayer and chairs started to be stacked away.

  Nick felt the kind of peace that he always seemed to have at the end of meetings these days. Then impulse got the better of him – a dangerous indulgence for a recovering addict. He took some paper and scribbled down his name, mobile number and headed over to Amanda who was looking lost.

  ‘What did you think?’ Nick asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t get some of it. But there was some stuff where I was thinking, “Yeah that’s me. That’s definitely me.”’

  Nick smiled and nodded. ‘Well that’s more than I got from my first meeting. But then again, I was hammered.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ He handed her the piece of paper. ‘Look, forget what I said earlier. I know how hard it must have been to come here tonight. And knowing someone will make it easier. So here’s my number. Ring or text me if you want to know anything or if you want to chat. Okay?’

  Nick looked at her, trying his best to not react to how bloody gorgeous she was. He knew it was the wrong thing to do, but frankly, he didn’t care.

  Amanda smiled and nodded. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Nick.’

  FOR RUTH, IT WAS THE perfect Christmas scene. Detective Constable Sian Hockney, Ruth’s girlfriend, walked over and put another log on the open fire before continuing to help Ella put Christmas decorations around the room. ‘Jingle Bells’ by Michael Bublé was playing, and they were both singing along, ‘Dashing through snow, on a one-horse open sleigh...’

  Curled up on the sofa, Ruth was on her laptop checking through emails and bills. She looked up as Sian playfully lobbed a Christmas bauble that bounced off Ella’s head with a plop.

  ‘Oi, what was that for?’ Ella said in mock indignation.

  Sian gave her the finger and grinned. ‘Get me a drink, bitch!’

  ‘What did your last slave die from?’ Ella asked.

  ‘Gonorrhoea,’ Sian quipped as Ella disappeared into the kitchen.

  Ruth loved that Sian and her daughter got on so well, even if when they were together, they turned into infants. Sarah’s disappearance had taken its toll on her and Ella’s relationship; Ruth had been a preoccupied, grief-stricken mess for a long time. It was a relief that Ella and she were so much closer now.

  Sian had moved in six weeks ago and things were going well between them. Ella was in the spare room as a stop-gap until she found a new flat. As much as she loved having her daughter around, it wasn’t ideal as the house was small. Ruth also wanted more time to be alone with Sian. She knew this was selfish, but Ella was now twenty-two, had a job and was living there rent free.

  Putting those thoughts out of her head, knowing that in the grand scheme it was a minor thing, Ruth realised that she hadn’t felt this content for a long time.

  Ella came back into the lounge with a bottle of beer, which she handed to Sian, and a clean bath towel that she had grabbed from the utility room.

  ‘Mum? Drink?’ Ella asked.

  ‘Not for me, darling.’

  Sian frowned. ‘Come on. Have a drink. Live a little.’

  ‘That’s the idea. And my liver is older than yours.’

  Ella gestured with her towel. ‘I’m going to have a long soak and read my new book.’

  ‘Be careful. Don’t fall asleep in the bath,’ Sian said in a serious tone.

  Ella rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Mummy.’

  Sian pulled a face. ‘Err, you can cut that out. That’s just plain weird.’

  Ella laughed, kissed them both and went upstairs. Sian spent the next twenty minutes in the kitchen clearing away and Ruth relaxed in the air of domesticity.

  Until Ruth saw the date on her computer screen–10th December.

  It was, or it would have been, Sarah’s fortieth birthday today. However illogical, Ruth felt guilty at having forgotten. She had remembered a few days ago, but the thought had got lost amongst everything that was going on. And of course, Ruth had no way of knowing if Sarah was actually turning forty today.

  Overwhelmed by grief, and not wanting Sian to see her upset, Ruth went up to the small study. She didn’t want to have to explain and for it to create an emotional distance between them. It hadn’t been easy for Sian.

  Closing the door, Ruth went to the folders and files that she kept under the desk. Sian didn’t know about these. Ruth knew that was wrong but part of her felt that she owed it to Sarah, on her birthday, to reconnect in some way.

  She began to flick through the file, even though it was heart-breaking. As she shuffled through, she came upon a photo. Her and Sarah photographed cheek to cheek on a blustery autumnal day in Battersea Park. The wind had caught Sarah’s hair and blown it away from her forehead. They looked so bloody happy. Closing her eyes for a moment, Ruth could feel the tears. Don’t cry, she told herself. How are you going to explain that?

  Opening the door, Ruth went out onto the landing and looked down the stairs. There was no sign of Sian, and Ella was in the bath reading.

  ‘I’m just going to sort out the washing,’ Ruth called downstairs.

  ‘Okay! I’m going to watch Love Island then, so I don’t have to listen to you moan that it’s vacuous shit!’ Sian called back.

  ‘Okay!’ Ruth said.

  Now feeling a mixture of guilt and anxiety, Ruth went back into the room and sifted through the photos, folders and newspaper cuttings. She wanted to show Sarah that she wasn’t forgotten as she became lost in the events of five years ago.

  On the 5 November 2013, Ruth’s partner, and the love of her life, Sarah Goddard vanished into thin air. She had not moved out. Not quit her job. Not met someone else. Not decided to cut ties with Ruth. She simply disappeared and hadn’t been seen again.

  That morning, Sarah had left home and boarded the 8.05 a.m. train from Crystal Palace to Victoria. The CCTV footage showed her getting on the train, as she always did. But she never got off. They examined CCTV at Victoria station millisecond by millisecond. Every frame of CCTV on the line between Crystal Palace was scoured. Every station scanned. Two passengers remembered seeing her chatting to a man as the commuters were squeezed together in the compartment. The man was described as tall, blonde and well dressed. She knew that man was Jurgen Kessler, a German banker who had been working in London at the time.

  Ruth came to some of the newspaper stories that she had collated in another file on Jurgen Kessler. She was convinced that he was in some way connected. Last year, police in Germany had linked Kessler to two murders in Berlin. He had disappeared but had been spotted entering the UK on a false passport in August. Since then, Kessler had vanished.

  Ruth knew that the key to Sarah’s disappearance was Jurgen Kessler. And however long it took, she was going to track him down.

  CHAPTER 5

  As Ruth entered the office, she could see that although the morning sky outside was icy and grey, inside there had been some half-hearted efforts to make Llancastell CID festive. Someone had pinned red-and-gold tinsel to some of the office dividers an
d a small Christmas tree had been placed apologetically in one corner.

  The smell of coffee felt reassuring as Ruth sat down next to Detective Constable Luke Merringer. With his short ginger hair and goatee, he had acquired the nickname Ginge but Ruth didn’t like it. Merringer was an excellent copper. Meticulous, hard-working, he really cared about the cases he worked on.

  ‘How’s your daughter doing? Katie isn’t it?’ Ruth asked. Merringer’s ten-year-old daughter had learning difficulties.

  ‘Yeah. She’s doing great. We got her a place at that school, St Paul’s. The staff there are amazing,’ he told her with a beaming smile.

  ‘Great. I’ve heard great things about St Paul’s,’ Ruth said. She was genuinely pleased for him. She needed reminding sometimes how lucky she was that Ella was fit and healthy.

  Files and paperwork were passed between officers and there was general chatter.

  Detective Chief Inspector Ashley Drake stood at the front of the room and had just begun to bring officers up to speed with ongoing CID operations. He was six foot, slim and black with a shaved head and a neat goatee. Normally Ruth took CID briefings, but every once in a while, DCI Drake would keep his hand in and remain a visible presence.

  Ruth nodded to him as he continued. He was a good skipper. Fair, approachable with instinctive man-management skills. And his intuition as a copper was second to none.

  DCI Drake went to the computer, clicked, and a photo of a man in his thirties appeared on the large monitor up on the wall. He had olive skin and dark hair. ‘We have a missing person. Stefan Olsen. Thirty-six. Went missing last Saturday night. It’s becoming suspicious as he missed a family Christening on Sunday and work meetings on Monday. He’s close to his family and they’re very concerned as it’s completely out of character.’

  It was difficult for Ruth to listen to any Missing Persons case for obvious reasons.

  Drake looked over at Merringer. ‘Luke, what have we got?’

  ‘Boss.’ Luke stood up and went over to the computer. ‘Stefan Olsen runs his own tree-surgeon business. Clients are mainly residential. Nothing from his mobile phone, which is also missing. We’ve checked all hospital admissions. We did get some of his social media information. Stefan was meeting an unknown male at this bar, Bar Lounge, in Bala.’ Merringer clicked and the exterior of Bar Lounge appeared. ‘Staff remember Stefan having a drink with a man but the description is sketchy. No answer from his house and no sightings from the neighbours.’