Before I Wake

by Clare Revell

  Isabel gasped. “It’s Susan Higgins. She was attacked by her boyfriend last weekend. We helped set up a PIN. She rang me last night and told me she was leaving town for a few days, but the line went dead.”

  “The phone is still in her hand. Yours is the last number called. Her throat was cut left to right, so deep it almost severed her head. The knife is there. We should be able to get prints from it.”

  “She’s been here since Friday?” Zander sounded surprised. “No one found her until today?”

  Arend shrugged. “Uniform are canvassing the area, I assume. But she’s fairly well concealed here. Not like the Slayer who leaves the bodies in plain sight.”

  Isabel swallowed. “We need to find Barney Terrance.”

  “Call it in. I’ll get the search for him ramped up.”

  She tugged her phone from her bag. “Is that even a thing?”

  “It is now.”

  Isabel turned her back on him and dialled the Guv. “Sir, it’s Isabel. The victim is Susan Higgins. Not one of the Slayer’s.”

  “Say again?”

  “Susan Higgins. Whoever it was didn’t leave much intact. It’s a mess, but not the Slayer.”

  “OK. I’ll hand it over to Fleet Street as we’re tied up with the Slayer right now.”

  “Want us to hang around until they get here?”

  “No. I need you both to find that play area.”

  “Yes, Guv.” She hung up and turned to Zander. “We’re off. He’s handing this one to Fleet Street.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Guv wants us to go on a playground hunt. Sounds like fun.”

  “Do you have a picture?” Arend asked.

  Isabel showed him her phone. “We thought it was here at first, but the swings are wrong.”

  “Looks like the one I take my daughter to. The older kids hang out there sometimes. Bluebell Wood, it’s off Wheble Drive.”

  “Thanks. We’ll check it out.”

  “Let’s go.” Zander set off at a trot back to the car. “It’s on the other side of town.”

  Isabel stopped and didn’t move.

  He turned back. “What?”

  “We need to check that map. Plot all the crime scenes onto it in relation to where I used to live.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “You are paranoid, woman.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” She ran to catch up. “Just humour me.”

  “Fine, once we get back to the office. For now, Wheble Drive and Bluebell Wood.”

  ~*~

  Zander drove as fast as he legally could in the traffic. He’d already worked out the connection between her address and the murder sites. He was amazed it had taken her this long, but to be fair she had been distracted by other things. He also knew the Slayer was far cleverer than anyone gave him credit for. He knew they’d work it out sooner or later and had planned accordingly.

  “Why can’t we simply put the remaining women in a hotel?” Isabel asked.

  “Money,” he replied.

  “Cheaper than bodyguards or witness protection.”

  “Not really. You’d have to vet all the staff. Cooks, waiters, barmen, cleaners, and so on. An absolute logistical nightmare.”

  “No more so than a political convention somewhere.”

  “You also need to take away all their mobile phones and put a stop on phone calls, social media pages. It’s not feasible. Trust me on that one. It’s bad enough organising an overnight stay for an indecisive jury.”

  They arrived at the entrance to the play area and walked up the steep path.

  “Is this the only access?” Isabel asked, glancing around. “It’s steep, fences and houses all around and opposite.”

  “Yes.”

  Reaching the top of the path, they entered a large grassy area, with houses backing onto it all the way around. Isabel frowned again. “It’s too overlooked.”

  Zander sighed. “Seriously? This bloke likes overlooked and busy. He picked an alley before now, for goodness sake. He’s done it in front of active CCTV cameras.”

  “Yes, I know. But he always picks somewhere with only one camera. Here is too…” She paused. “It’s not right.”

  Zander narrowed his eyes. “You really have got inside the Slayer’s head, haven’t you?”

  She started walking again. “He’s inside mine, so it’s only fair.”

  He studied her and then turned away. “Everything else is right,” he pointed out. “The colour of the play equipment, the house, the angle of the picture from here.”

  “And I’m telling you it’s too open. See, look, that proves my point.” She pointed at the woman walking her dog. Two kids, both girls, rode across the field on bikes. “The Slayer likes taking chances, yes, but he also likes little chance of being caught in the act. There’s no light for him to do this at night.”

  “Tell you, if I was the Slayer—”

  “But you’re not,” she interrupted.

  Zander simply looked at her. “I’m the right height, build, and drive the same make of car.”

  “And so do a hundred and fifty other men, actually. Drive the same car, that is. DI Holmes pulled the DVLA records. Frank and Tony are making a list, checking it twice, finding out if Santa is sticking to the new data protection laws and while they’re at it, checking out all the owners of that make and model in the area.”

  “Including me?”

  She grinned. “Do you have something to hide? Like points on your licence?”

  He could feel his cheeks start to heat and turned away, taking long strides to the playground.

  Scrambling footsteps caught him up. “Seriously? You do? Oh, wow, I was kidding. What did you do?”

  “Illegal tyres,” he muttered. It hadn’t been his proudest moment.

  “Seriously?”

  “In my defence I was on the way to the garage to get them changed, but the traffic cops didn’t believe me.”

  “Are you surprised?” She adopted a gruff voice. “It’s not my heroin, officer. I was gonna hand it in. Or…” She changed her voice. “I found this AK47 on the street and being a concerned citizen I’m on my way to hand it into the police station in the next town ten miles away, ’cos I don’t like the cops here. Really, I didn’t know the bank down the street just got robbed. No, there’s no money in this massive bag I’m carrying, I’m going on holiday, innit? And I’m wearing a balaclava ’cos I’m cold.” She laughed. “How many points did you get?”

  “Three. For four years. Still got three years six months to go.”

  “Ouch.” Sympathy flickered in her eyes. “Does the Guv know?”

  “No. And I don’t want to be there when he does find out.”

  “He does tend to shout a bit,” she agreed. “So, shall we go and find some more parks?”

  “Yeah.” He checked his watch. “Is that the time? Ummm, can you get the bus back to the office? I have to meet someone.”

  “That sounds mysterious.”

  “Not really. A mate wants to talk, and I said I’d meet him for an early lunch.”

  “OK. See you back at work.”

  “Yup.” Zander double timed it back to where he’d left the car. Quick lunch with Mike, then he had things to do, preferably alone, before heading back to work. As nice as it was having Isabel living with him, it did make certain things difficult.

  ~*~

  Isabel turned back to the playground as Zander left. The kids from earlier were playing on the roundabout. She pulled out her phone and brought up the photo of the playground the Slayer had sent. Several long strides took her over to the kids. “You girls got a minute?”

  “Are you the old bill?” the dark-haired kid asked.

  “Yes.” She pulled out her ID and showed them. “But you’re not in trouble.”

  “Good,” replied the other one. “’Cos my mum would kill me if she knew I was skiving.”

  “This really isn’t the best place to skive,” she told them. “It’s too overlooked. I’m Isabe
l. What are your names?”

  “Diana.”

  “Kate.”

  “Tell you what, if you help me solve a case, I won’t tell your mum you were skiving, so long as you go to school this afternoon.”

  “What do you want?” Diana stopped the roundabout and looked at her.

  Isabel sat beside them. “My partner and I are on a scavenger hunt. We need to find this park to get the next clue. We thought this might be it, but the clue isn’t here.” She held out her phone and showed them the picture. “See, it’s similar, but not quite right. This park doesn’t have a seesaw.”

  “It could be anywhere,” Diana said.

  “I know, right? Thing is I really want to beat him and win. Just to shut him up gloating about how he’s always the best.”

  “My brother’s like that. It’s a right pain. Says girls are rubbish and know nothing.”

  Isabel nodded in agreement. “I get that all the time. Eight blokes in my unit and I’m the only woman.”

  Kate looked at the photo. “I’ve been to that park loads of times. That’s my nan’s house.” She pointed to the house at the back of the photo.

  “You couldn’t tell me where it is? It’s not cheating, it’s helping.”

  “And you won’t tell her or my mum I’m skiving?”

  Isabel crossed her heart with her finger. “I promise.”

  “OK. Nan lives in Parsons Green. That’s Parsons Wood.”

  “Thank you. What number bus do I need?” She leaned in. “My partner thinks its Dinton Lane, and he’s taken the car to look.”

  “The 19C. You want the one going to the precinct, not away from it. You can walk, but the bus is quicker.”

  “Thank you so much.” Isabel ran towards the road, speed dialling as she went. The call went straight to voice mail. “Zander, it’s me. Call me back ASAP.” She ended the call and rang the Guv.

  “Holmes.”

  “Guv, it’s Isabel. I spoke to some kids who identified the play area as Parsons Wood. I’m headed there now. Once the bus arrives.” She reached the stop and checked the timetable. “It’s due in ten minutes.”

  “Bus? Where’s Zander?”

  “Done his vanishing trick again.”

  “Where are you?” Tapping and rustling came down the line. A chair moved against the carpet.

  “Wheble Drive, almost by the precinct waiting for the bus.”

  “I’ll come and get you. Give me five minutes.” The line went dead.

  Isabel took a deep breath. Would this get Zander into further hot water? She didn’t have to wait more than four minutes before DI Holmes’ service car pulled up beside her, a large, new black sedan with flashing lights on the grill and dashboard. She opened the door and climbed in. “Nice wheels, Guv.”

  “Perks of the rank. Did Zander say where he was going?”

  “Early lunch with a friend. He rushed off before I spoke to the kids, and, yes, I told them to go to school.”

  “You said Parsons Wood?”

  “Yes, a playground over the back of Parsons Green. The girl I spoke to said her nan’s house is the one in the photo.”

  DI Holmes pulled away from the kerb, lights and sirens going.

  “You get taught how to do this?” Isabel leaned back in her seat, as her boss skilfully negotiated the road and traffic.

  “Yes. And on blues and twos you can shoot red lights. But you do it safely and slowly. The last thing you want to do is cause an accident or get involved in one.”

  “Saw one Christmas morning last year. A car didn’t give way and went side on into an ambulance. They had to dispatch another ambulance to the original call, plus all three services to this crash. Car driver was drunk. Too much Christmas spirit. Literally.”

  DI Holmes slowed as he approached the junction before going through the lights. Four minutes later, he parked in Parsons Green.

  “What if I’m wrong again, and the kids got confused?” she asked.

  “Then we cross it off the list. Come on.”

  Isabel got out of the car and crossed the road. She went through the gate and up the grass path, her boss by her side. The play area was on her right as they entered the huge grassy field. A basketball hoop stood ahead of them, with the white house beyond. She pulled out her phone to compare the photo, but as she did something caught the corner of her gaze. She turned. “Guv…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Over there.” Isabel ran to the slide, heart pounding. No, no, no. Not again.

  A figure in white knelt at the base. Isabel leaned down and placed her fingers on the woman’s neck. She shook her head. They were too late.

  “I’ll call it in,” DI Holmes said. “Put gloves on before you do anything else.”

  Isabel swallowed. It was victim number eight, but this time the Slayer had broken the mould. This girl wasn’t the same as the others.

  17

  Isabel pulled out her phone and called Zander. Again, it went to voicemail. She hung up and called again. It rang three times.

  “Ellery.”

  “It’s me,” she said, frustration and anger spilling over in her voice. “Where are you?”

  “Told you, lunch. You don’t need to keep calling.” Yet there was no background noise as if there would be in a pub or restaurant. No clinking or chatter.

  “You need to get over to Parsons Wood playground now. It’s off Parsons Green.”

  “I’m busy.”

  She hissed. “There’s a body. Number eight. I’m with the DI, and I suggest you get here ten minutes ago. He isn’t happy. Neither am I.” She hung up and shoved her phone into her pocket. She pulled on gloves and moved closer to the body.

  “Don’t disturb anything,” DI Holmes called.

  “I’m not!” She didn’t want to snap, but she did. She wasn’t a rookie cop any longer, and this wasn’t her first crime scene. She tuned DI Holmes out, instead concentrating on the scene in front of her and looking for the woman’s ID and the painting.

  The Slayer was making a point. Each woman had been deliberately targeted. He was watching them—the eyes in the paintings showed that. They all had long dark hair. Eye colour didn’t seem to matter, and now, so it seemed, nor did skin colour.

  Each victim up until now had been white.

  “Found her bag.” Isabel pulled it from the top of the slide. She unzipped it. “Her name is—”

  “Orla Arkwright,” DI Holmes said. “We arrested her, oh, must be five years ago. She got seven years for kidnapping and perverting the course of justice, amongst other things.”

  Isabel frowned. “Eight is thou shalt not steal.” Her gaze fell on the painting, tucked away to one side of the seesaw. “It’s a child being taken from a pram.”

  “Orla’s daughter died of cot death when she was three months old. Orla swapped the body with that of a neighbour’s baby born on the same day. It went undetected for several weeks. The baby got sick, blood tests proved the baby wasn’t a genetic match to either Orla or her husband.”

  Isabel studied the painting, searching for the eyes she knew would be there. As she found them, she shivered.

  “You OK?”

  “Yeah, fine, Guv. Can see the solid, half outline of a face to the left of the eyes now. Almost as if he’s starting to reveal himself, but not enough to make an identification.”

  DI Holmes stood beside her. “It’s just lines. As you said, could be anyone.”

  “Only…it’s not. It’s kind of familiar. As though I know him.”

  Sirens wailed and car doors slammed. Running footsteps drew closer. Isabel turned as Zander, Frank, and Tony ran over to them.

  “What have we got?” Zander asked.

  “Orla Arkwright, thirty-two, ex-con. The Guv arrested her for kidnapping five years ago.”

  “Orla?” Zander frowned. “Yasmin mentioned an Orla. Said she was thrown out of St. Crispin’s for something.”

  “Yes. She didn’t say what though, and it’s not like we can go and ask her.”

&
nbsp; “Go and talk to Rev. Eke,” DI Holmes said. “All these seem to lead back to him.”

  Frank stared at the body. “She’s not white.”

  “Then maybe he picked her because she fitted his pattern,” Zander said. “There’s no rule book that says every serial killer can only kill white women. This bloke is killing people who broke the commandments.”

  “And he does have an ever-narrowing list to pick from.” She looked at Frank. “Did you ever find out how the New Wine files were accessed?”

  “No,” Frank replied. “They weren’t hacked. Only the usual staff had access to them.”

  “Check again.” DI Holmes turned to face him. “There has to be a leak there somewhere.”

  Isabel pulled Orla’s driving licence from the bag. “Her address is forty Deerwood Estate.” Another connection.

  “Not bad for an ex-con.” Zander whistled. “Her husband must be worth a fair bob.”

  DI Holmes shook his head. “He divorced her after she was arrested.”

  “Nice bloke. So much for ’til death us do part.” Isabel glanced up as Arend arrived. “We meet again.”

  “SOCO will set up in a few minutes.”

  DI Holmes nodded. “Arend, we’ll need everything as soon as you have it.”

  “Sure.” The coroner knelt beside the body and set his case beside him. “She’s different.”

  “Preferably tell us something we don’t know.”

  Arend grinned and turned his attention to the body. “Her nails have been painted recently.”

  “How recently?” Zander asked.

  “After her hands were bound as there is nail polish on the duct tape. The word guilty is written in the same pen. Obvious fibres in her hair, even caught in the duct tape as well.” He peered closer. “Hmmm.”

  “What?” DI Holmes asked.

  “The fibres aren’t blue this time.”

  Isabel’s heart sank as she snapped photos of the painting onto her phone. “They aren’t.”

  “No.” Arend shook his head.

  DI Holmes straightened. “Zander, I want you and Isabel to get over to Deerwood Estate and do the notification. Find out when she was last seen and so on.”

  “Yes, Guv.” He left the scene with Isabel at his side. “Get the feeling we’re not wanted?”