THE THAMES PATH KILLER an absolutely gripping mystery and suspense thriller (Detective Rob Miller Mysteries Book 1)

by BIBA PEARCE

  “I’m working on it,” she replied. “Mallory’s on the line with the tech guys now.”

  “Simon works here,” Rob told her, now that his neurons were firing again. “He works in the bridal department. That’s how he’s targeting them. It’s not the expo.”

  A pause. “So it’s just a coincidence that Yvette works there too?”

  Rob sat down on a glass display containing wedding shoes. “I guess so. He got lucky.”

  He tried to think. Where would the stalker take Yvette? It would have to be somewhere deserted, somewhere they wouldn’t be interrupted. It was still daylight, so he’d wait until dark before he . . .

  He couldn’t bear to think about that. He forced his thoughts back on track. If the stalker was waiting until dark, where would he hole up? In his car? Did he have a car? He must have done to get Yvette away from here. This broke with his normal pattern. Harrods was a crowded store, not an isolated path through the woods. He knew Yvette, had purposely forged a friendship with her. That wasn’t a socially inept man. Or had the circumstances forced him out of his comfort zone?

  He spoke into the phone. “Jo, see if you can find a car registered to Simon Burridge. He must have had one nearby in order to take her away. He couldn’t have dragged her onto a bus or a tube and I doubt they’re on foot.”

  “On it,” barked Jo and he heard her issuing orders to someone in the room.

  “It’s possible Simon tricked her into going somewhere with him,” he thought out loud. “But it’s not his usual MO.”

  “No, usually he takes them by surprise.” A pause as she thought for a moment. “Rob, does Simon have a disability?”

  “It doesn’t seem so, but he’s completely bald,” Rob said. “Not shaved, but smooth, like no growth at all. That’s not a big thing in itself, but it might have been when he was growing up. He probably got bullied because of it. He could have developed a complex.”

  “That could explain why he didn’t have any girlfriends,” said Jo. “Oh, hang on . . .”

  Rob waited. He wanted to do something, go somewhere, but he didn’t know where to start.

  “Simon’s phone is off, so no luck there, but Yvette’s pinged a cell phone tower twenty minutes ago on Parkside, near Wimbledon Common.”

  “Right, I’m on my way.” Wimbledon Common was a heavily wooded area. Lots of places to hide.

  “I’ll meet you in the Windmill car park with the dog squad.” She hung up.

  He raced downstairs back to his car leaving the police officers and security staff in his wake. Almost immediately, his phone rang. He put it on speaker. It was Mallory. He didn’t bother with hellos.

  “Simon Burridge drives a dark grey Honda Civic with the licence plate LP67 YCB. I’ve put out an all-points bulletin, so we’ve got everyone keeping an eye out. It was last clocked by the ANPR camera on the A219 going over Putney Bridge.”

  “When was that?” Rob shouted over the sirens.

  “Twenty-seven minutes ago.”

  “He’s heading towards Wimbledon Common.”

  “Uniform are on their way, along with the canine unit,” said Mallory. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll find her.”

  Rob swallowed. A lot could have happened in twenty minutes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

  Chapter 26

  The stalker glanced over to where Yvette was slumped unconscious in the passenger seat. The Rohypnol he’d slipped into her coffee during their tea break had done its work. She was out cold. It was so easy with vain women. He’d simply told her he wanted her to meet a friend who was looking for a model for a freelance job — bridal wear, of course — and she’d jumped at the chance.

  At least now he could stop pretending. He’d heard just about enough of her relationship crisis, her fiancé’s demanding job, the fact he was never home. He got that she felt neglected, but so fucking what? She should try being bullied every day at school for being the weirdo with no hair. Having the opposite sex laugh in her face and whisper derogatory comments behind her back. Then how would she feel?

  She’d had a pampered life. She was beautiful, appreciated, with a body most men would ache to hold, but he found her repulsive. She used her sexuality to ensnare men, to tap into their weaknesses. Her fiancé was a classic case in point. She didn’t love him, she only loved how he made her feel. Wanted. Appreciated. All the feelings he had never experienced, not even from his good-for-nothing parents. He gave a brittle laugh. When you looked at it that way, he’d been doomed from the start. Not that he regretted it, not anymore. It had made him the person he was today. The hunter everybody feared. The Surrey Stalker.

  He still got goosebumps thinking about the name they’d given him. It had such a fearsome ring to it. He’d go down in history as one of the country’s most infamous serial killers, along with Robert Napper and Levi Bellfield. And he was just getting started.

  Yvette was a perfect target — self-centred and superficial, and just like Bridget, she was tying herself to the wrong man. Oh, he had no doubt the intrepid detective Rob Miller was in love with her. He’d seen it on his face in the cocktail bar the other night. Little did he know he was about to make a massive mistake, the biggest of his life. He, the stalker, was doing Miller a favour by taking Yvette off his hands — and making her pay.

  He gave a hollow laugh. The detective could thank him later.

  Traffic was heavy up Putney Hill, which slowed him down, but he wasn’t panicked. He didn’t think anyone could trace him. His phone was off, no one knew his real name, and the idiot detective didn’t have a clue who he was, even though he’d stared right at him the other night. The gay façade had worked wonders, it always did when he had to get close to his targets. They never suspected he was putting it on.

  He was driving around Tibbet’s Corner roundabout onto Wimbledon Parkside when it struck him.

  Her phone.

  He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to forget about her fucking phone. Grimacing, he veered off the road and onto the hard shoulder, nearly side-swiping a motorcyclist. He reached across his drugged-up passenger and fished in her handbag.

  Where the hell was it? He eventually found it in a side-pocket. He smashed it on the dashboard to open it up and took out the SIM card. He threw both the phone and the SIM out of the window into the dense vegetation that flanked the side of the road. He had no doubt her cop fiancé would try to ping it as soon as he discovered she was missing, but since she wasn’t living with him at the moment — she’d told him in painstaking detail how she’d moved out — it was unlikely that had happened yet.

  The sun was low in the sky when he turned into Windmill Road, which led to the centre of Wimbledon Common. Despite the chilliness, there were lots of dog walkers about. He drove down the long, winding driveway into the car park.

  It was dangerous leaving the car here, but he needed to get his victim into the deep, dark woods and out of sight. Somewhere where he could deal out her punishment.

  Robert Frost’s poem had never been more apt. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

  He chanted the words to himself as he undid Yvette’s seat belt and tried to wake her up, enough so that she could walk. Carrying her would attract too much attention. When she didn’t respond, he slapped her across the face. She groaned and her eyes flickered open, but only momentarily before they shut again. Hell, he hadn’t even given her that much, just enough to make her dozy, yet the stupid bitch had gone and passed out. He whacked her again.

  “Wha—?” This time she turned her unfocused eyes onto him and he smiled as he saw the fear register in them.

  “Time to go.” He got out of the car, opened her door and helped her out. She leaned heavily on him, swaying dangerously, but he somehow managed to close the door and support her as they walked in the direction of the trees. She was trying to talk but couldn’t get the words out. To anyone watching, it would appear like he w
as taking his inebriated girlfriend for a much-needed stroll to clear her head.

  She was heavier than he anticipated, and by the time they reached the trees he’d worked up quite a sweat.

  That’s okay, he thought. It’ll be worth it when I get her under cover. That’s when she’ll get what’s coming to her.

  It was all he could do not to laugh with glee.

  Chapter 27

  Rob raced down the narrow Windmill Road, his car literally taking off as he flew over the speed bumps. The tyres growled on the gravel and kicked up stones and dust behind him. He hit the brakes once he got to the car park at the bottom and the car screeched to a halt.

  Despite the late hour, there were still scraggly school children running about, followed by harassed parents and overexcited dogs. He cruised up and down the aisles looking for the Honda Civic.

  There!

  It was parked at the edge of the car park in the last bay in the last aisle. There were no other cars around it. Clearly, Simon hadn’t wanted anyone to see him with Yvette.

  They couldn’t have gone far. Knowing Yvette, she would have been struggling or screaming, probably both. He frowned. No, he would have subdued her somehow, since he couldn’t afford for her to make a noise and attract attention. Maybe she was gagged? An image of Yvette lying on the ground, duct tape over her mouth came to mind, but he pushed it firmly away. Not yet. He wouldn’t go there just yet. There was still time.

  He felt the Honda’s bonnet. It was warm, and he smelled fuel and heard the faint ticking as the engine cooled down. Ten, fifteen minutes at the most.

  Rob took stock of the area. Behind him was the lodge which housed a popular lunchtime canteen, but it had shut for the day and there were now only a scattering of people sitting at the wooden tables outside, cleaning off their boots or changing shoes before they went home. None of them would have seen anything since there were four rows of parked cars and about two hundred metres between where he stood and the restaurant.

  In front of him was a large field criss-crossed with walking paths leading into the dark bank of trees around the exterior. Rob glanced up at the deepening sky. He reckoned he had about twenty minutes of light left, then night would descend, and with it, acts of horror that didn’t bear thinking about. There were street lights in the car park, but the field was in shadows, and beneath the canopy of trees ahead, it was already dark.

  He set off on the path that led directly to the clump of trees up ahead. He’d been here once or twice before and knew the basic layout of the common. To his left, a steep path wound down to a crescent-shaped lake, but it was popular with walkers and the stalker would have to have passed an entire row of cars to get to it, so he didn’t think he’d gone that way.

  To the right, he’d have had to cross the length of the field, potentially leaving him exposed for longer. No, he’d have been looking for the quickest and easiest route to the coverage of the trees, and that meant straight ahead.

  The temperature dropped once he got into the woods, and the sounds of the night replaced the children’s laughter and dogs barking. Scurrying animals, chirping insects and creaking branches echoed off the sturdy oaks and plane trees around him.

  “Yvette!” he yelled, hoping that she was still able to shout out, scream, or give him an indication of where she was. His only reply was a scurrying squirrel that dashed across the path in front of him, or at least he thought it was a squirrel. It was almost too dark to see.

  He switched on the light on his phone and followed the path down, his senses hyper-alert, listening for any unnatural sounds — a man’s boot, a thud or a gasp — but there was nothing. The path wound down to the left and became slippery and uneven. He moved to the side where he could get some traction on the tufts of grass along the edge.

  “Yvette!”

  Still nothing. Where the hell had Simon taken her? He must be around here somewhere. This was the most secluded part of the common. Anywhere else and he’d risk being seen.

  Rob decided to leave the path, but should he go left or right? He peered into the darkness, trying to put himself into the mind of the killer. The left was more uneven as it sloped down towards the lake. It would be slippery and damp. More risk of slipping, especially with a captive.

  He chose the high ground on the right and stepped over broken branches and collapsed tree trunks as he made his way through the thick undergrowth.

  “Yvette!” He tried again. This time he thought he heard something, a rustling that suddenly stopped. He inched his way closer, keeping his hands out in front of him to deter low branches rendered invisible by the darkness. “Are you here?”

  There was an urgent but muffled response. A moan. Then he heard the slapping sound of skin on skin.

  Bastard.

  “Yvette, I’m coming!” He charged through the bush like a madman, following the direction of the moan and his instinct. Eventually, the foliage cleared, and he saw Yvette lying on the cold, hard ground, her wrists bound above her head and tied to a tree stump.

  Above her was Simon.

  Emitting a guttural yell, Rob charged the stalker. Simon was ready for him. The flying branch hit Rob across the forehead and knocked him off his feet. Growling, he scrambled to his knees and continued his forward trajectory.

  “Get away from her!”

  There was another thwack as the branch came down again, and Rob lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Rob awoke to swirling leaves above him and an overwhelming sense of nausea. He blinked while his eyes adjusted and turned his head. An excruciating pain shot across his forehead and down his neck, but through the red mist, he could see the supine figure of Yvette, a few metres away. He tried to roll over and found he couldn’t move his arms. As his muddled brain struggled to kick-start, he realised he was bound to a tree, his arms above his head.

  The stalker had now completely subdued Yvette, who wasn’t moving. Rob stared at her chest to see if she was breathing and thought he detected the faint rise and fall of her breasts. He realised with a start that her skirt was bunched up around her waist and the rapist was in the process of removing her underwear.

  Rob growled and wrestled against the tape binding him.

  The stalker turned his head. “Just in time to watch the show.”

  Rob twisted his arms around and felt the tape give a little. A bit more twisting and wrenching and he could get free. He pulled himself back along the ground towards the tree to which he was bound, until his face was under his hands. Then using his eyeteeth, he ripped the tape apart. After that, all it took was a firm twist and his bindings shot loose.

  The stalker hadn’t counted on an enraged man when he’d tied Rob up. He was used to women he could overpower easily. With a furious yell, Rob threw himself at the stalker.

  He fell sideways off Yvette. She barely moved. Rob punched him in the face and heard the satisfying crack as his nose or cheekbone broke, he wasn’t sure which, and he didn’t much care. The stalker roared and rolled to his side so Rob’s second punch hit the dirt.

  Then he was up on his feet and charging. He barrelled into Rob and the two men went flying into the undergrowth. Rob barely felt the twigs and thistles beneath him as his attacker landed on top of him. Before Simon could hit him, Rob rolled away and scrambled to his feet.

  But the stalker kept coming, and this time landed a punch that made Rob see stars. The stalker was taller than he was, but not as broad, and Rob knew he could take him out in a fair fight. But there was nothing fair about this one. His head hurt from the smack with the branch and his vision was blurry. Rob swayed on his feet.

  The stalker hit him again, sensing his advantage, and Rob staggered but managed to stay upright. With a growl, his attacker picked up a rock and brought it down over Rob’s head.

  Rob saw it coming and twisted to the side. The force of the rock landed on his shoulder. Pain radiated down his back, releasing a surge of adrenalin.

  No fucking way is this guy going to get away
.

  Rob moved forward, throwing punch after punch, oblivious to the pain or to anything else other than the man in front of him. The stalker fell to his knees, his nose spurting blood.

  “How do you like that?” growled Rob, punching him again.

  The stalker fell backwards onto the ground. He was still holding the rock in his hand, which he raised feebly in an attempt at self-defence. Rob grabbed the rock from his limp fingers and brought it down on his head. It smashed into his forehead with a sickening thud.

  Somewhere behind him, Rob heard dogs barking and someone shouting. He hit the stalker again with the rock, then again, and again, until there was nothing left of his face but a bloody mess.

  * * *

  “Rob, that’s enough.” Jo’s voice penetrated the thick mist that had encased him. “Drop the rock.”

  Rob did as she said and sat back on his haunches, panting. Her arms enveloped him, and he dropped his head onto her shoulder. The world was spinning.

  “It’s okay,” she breathed. “You got him. Yvette is safe now.”

  Yvette!

  Rob turned to see a huddle of paramedics leaning over her body. “Is she . . . ?”

  “She’s alive,” Jo said, still holding him in her arms. “He didn’t rape her.”

  “Thank God.”

  Rob’s legs buckled and Jo guided him down to the ground. The fight drained out of him. Suddenly, he felt cold, really cold, and began to shiver.

  “It’s okay,” Jo said. “I’ve got you.” She turned to someone hovering behind her. “Can I have a blanket?”

  A fleecy blanked was draped around them. How long they stayed that way, Rob didn’t know, but when the mist and the pain had cleared long enough to see properly, he stared disbelievingly at the bloodied head of Simon Burridge as a team of pathologists lit up the area all around them.

  “Did I do that?”

  “Yeah.” Jo hesitated. “Do you think you can stand up?”

  He nodded, feeling the pain radiate down his neck and into his shoulder. “I think I’ve bust my collarbone.”