Vicious Cycle (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 9)

by Oliver Davies

  “Keys?”

  “Will I need them?” Julia asked. “Doesn’t look like you and dad are going anywhere.”

  “No,” her mother sighed. “We’ll be in. I might pop out to see your sister, but it looks like dad’s afternoon is booked.”

  Julia chuckled and checked the time. “I’m off. See you later.”

  “Have a nice time, love, be careful.”

  Julia waved over her shoulder and left the house, walking down the street to the corner where his car sat. They lived on a narrow road, a bit awkward for turning around, so he waited down there, where it was easier to drive from. Grinning, Julia opened the passenger door and jumped in.

  “Hello,” she chirped.

  “Hello,” he replied, a smile on his handsome face. “Ready to go?”

  Julia nodded, clipping her seatbelt into place. “Where are we going? Down by the river?”

  “I thought we’d go a little further out if that’s okay. I know a beautiful route out towards the moors.”

  “Not too steep?” Julia checked.

  He chuckled. “Not too steep, I promise.”

  “Alright then. I need to be home in time for dinner, mind you.”

  “Consider me minded.” He pulled away from the kerb, driving out from the city and into the countryside. Julia turned her head to the window, watching the world change, growing wilder and more rugged. They used to come out here a lot when they were children. Big family walks with the dog aided by mum’s flasks of hot chocolate and playing Poohsticks on every bridge they crossed.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” she murmured. “Windy, though.”

  “We’ll be alright,” he answered. “The place I know is sheltered.”

  “You can’t let me get too cold,” Julia said with a smile.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he smiled back.

  Julia looked away, butterflies in her stomach, and looked back out of the window. She could feel his eyes on her, though, for a moment until he looked back at the road, and she pressed her hands to her face, trying to calm the blush that threatened to spread across her cheeks. The problem with being so pale was that it was all too easy to make her blush.

  They drove on for a little while longer until they reached a quiet road surrounded by fields. He pulled over, turning the engine off and turned to her, an excited glint in his eyes.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded eagerly, unbuckling her seatbelt. He fished his phone from his pocket and reached over her to open the glove compartment.

  “Don’t want it to fall in the stream,” he said. “Plus, we’ll have fewer distractions,” he added. As he sat back up, his hand trailed over her arm, and Julia hesitated. But she’d known him for a while now, and she doubted she’d need it, so she pulled her phone from her pocket and placed it with his in the glove compartment, shutting the little door with a snap.

  “Good,” he grinned. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

  They climbed from the car, and Julia zipped her coat up higher, shivering slightly. He looked back at her, his hair blown about his face, and reached out his hand, still smiling. Julia laced her fingers through his, and they started towards a public footpath sign on the other side of the road, following the trail through the moors and down the hills.

  “It’s so peaceful,” she sighed, looking up at the birds, listening to their singing.

  “I thought you’d like it,” he replied. “It’s a good place.”

  “How did you find it?” she asked.

  “My dad,” he murmured. “Told me about it before he died. I come here every now and then.”

  “You don’t talk about your dad much,” she said quietly.

  “Not much to say about him, really. Come on.” He tucked her into his side. “Tell me how you are. Was work okay last night?”

  “Busy,” she sighed. “We had another private booking, a big party. All these business-looking men.”

  “What was their business?”

  “I have no idea. They ordered lots, though, and tipped well, so I’m happy with that. It was a late night, though. I didn’t get home until after one. Apparently, I was the only waitress available.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Or the only one they trust with those bookings,” he replied in a funny tone. Julia gave a half-hearted laugh, her grip on his arm loosening a bit.

  “Trust me for what? Not to drop the soufflé?”

  “Come on,” he said, moving away so that he was in front of her, walking backward along the path, a playful smirk on his face. “All those men, private parties, lots of money. Sounds intriguing.”

  “All I do,” she reminded him, “is serve tables.”

  “Surely you overhear them, though,” he said, tugging on her hand. “Know what they’re up to.”

  “Up too?” Julia asked, an unpleasant feeling in her stomach growing. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” he said darkly, stopping and towering over her.

  Julia’s smile slipped. “No, I don’t,” she said, stepping back. His face softened, and he gave her a sweet smile.

  “Sorry, Julia. I didn’t mean to sound so rude. It’s just a little further,” he said, pointing down the path. “The stream down there is divine; I just know that you’ll love it. Come on.” He held out his hand again. “I’m sorry. Please?”

  Julia hesitated, debating asking him to take her home. But it was beautiful out here, and she did want to see the stream, so she took his hand loosely and nodded.

  “No more pestering me about work, though,” she warned.

  “Scout’s honour,” he swore, grinning and pulling her along the path.

  “Were you a Scout?”

  “No. I’ll just do anything to make you stay.”

  “Absurd,” Julia laughed, her voice carrying with the wind.

  “You’re the only person I’ve ever brought here,” he told her. “My dad told me that it would be useful one day, and now it is.”

  “For impressing young women?” she asked.

  “Nothing wrong with wanting to show you something beautiful,” he said. “Or with wanting a little privacy.” He gave her a roguish smirk. She rolled her eyes at him, but her stomach fluttered again.

  “Are we nearly there?” she asked. “I am not looking forward to having to walk back up that hill.”

  “Maybe you won’t have to,” he said.

  “How mysterious. Will you carry me, or are we stealing one of those cows?” She pointed to a field in the distance, the large animals barely visible.

  “Can’t steal cows, Julia Brook,” he chuckled. “That’s very bad manners.”

  “Borrow the cow then,” she replied. “I’ll ride it back up the hill, and then you return it to its field.”

  He looked down at her, smirking again. “I’ll think about it,” he said, picking up the pace. He pulled her along a little further, then stopped and walked to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back, hands coming down to cover her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  “The big reveal,” he replied. “Nothing but the best.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “How rude. A few more steps,” he urged her blindly along until she could hear the stream not far away. Then he stopped and lowered his hands. Julia blinked at the sun and smiled at her surroundings. It was stunning. The stream ran along the bottom of the hills, bubbling bright over rocks, the grass sprawled out with patches of heather and early blooming wildflowers, birds singing in the sparse trees to the side.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  “Good, isn’t it?” he asked, stepping away from her, the warmth of his body vanishing.

  “It is.”

  “Worth the walk?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I thought it would be the right place,” he murmured.

  Julia turned around to find him staring at her. “The right place for what?”

  “For us to s
pend some time alone,” he answered simply, sitting down on the grass, patting the spot beside him. Julia tentatively walked over and sat beside him.

  “I’m not ready to do anything yet,” she said.

  “No problem,” he answered. “We’ll just sit and talk. That’s all I need.”

  “No funny business?” Julia asked, grinning.

  “None whatsoever,” he said solemnly. “Lie down.”

  “You lie down.”

  He did, folding back against the earth, his eyes closed to the sun. Julia looked at him for a bit, a smile on her face, then shifted down and lay beside him, her hand brushing his.

  “Why did you ask about work?” she asked, her eyes closed.

  “Just curious. Whenever I’m in there, I see these interesting looking chaps, and I think they must be important. I wondered if you knew was all.”

  Julia opened her eyes, turning to look at him, a worried feeling pricking at her instincts. His eyes were still closed, face up towards the sky, but Julia still inched away and sat up, hugging her knees.

  “You eat there,” she pointed out.

  He laughed. “Because I saw a beautiful waitress through the window,” he said, his hand resting on her back.

  “Flirt,” she scolded half-heartedly.

  “Come on, Julia. Give me a little gossip, I beg of you. Some of those men are in there all the time, and they must make you stay late for a reason.”

  “Everywhere has regular customers,” she said. “And most restaurants are open late. People like to dine late.”

  He said nothing, and she turned her head to look at him. His eyes were open, one hand behind his head, propping him up so that he could look at her, his other hand still on her back, fingers pressing into her. There was a strange look on his face that had her turning away and looking up at the sky.

  “Looks like it’s going to rain,” she said. “We should head back before it does.”

  “We only just got here,” he said in a dull voice.

  “Come on,” she nudged him. “We can go to a pub or something. I saw one down the road.” She wanted to be back with other people, wanted her phone in her hands again.

  As she made to climb to her feet, the hand at her back tightened, gripping her coat, and he sat up to hold her in place.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “What are you doing?” she shot back, trying to pull away from his grip.

  “We only just got here, Julia, and it’s not going to rain. You think I’d plan this for a day when it rained?”

  “The weather is fickle,” she said. “And I’m a bit hungry.” She shuffled away from him, and he let go of her, letting her climb to her feet. Then his hand snagged her wrist, gripping her tightly.

  “Hang on,” he snapped.

  “You’re hurting me!” She pushed at his chest, but he was bigger than her. Bigger and stronger, and he didn’t budge an inch. Fear swelled up in her, and she tugged her arm.

  “Relax, Julia, I promised, remember? No funny business. I won’t even kiss you.”

  “Then let go,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He looked down at her and sighed, pushing a loose strand of her hair back from her face. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

  “About what?” she demanded, flinching her face away from his hand.

  “You know what,” he said, his face coming low to hers, his tone almost irritated. “You know exactly what! I’ll have to get them talking some other way, I suppose.”

  “Go ahead,” Julia said. “Just let go. I’ll call a taxi or something.”

  “No need,” he said softly, his voice soothing and gentle, a complete switch from what it had been a moment ago.

  “I don’t really want to get in that car with you,” she snapped, her eyes filling with tears that she tried to hold back, her limbs trembling.

  He gave her a soft, beautiful smile, his free hand reaching around to his back.

  “You won’t be.”

  “Let go.”

  “I told you, Julia, didn’t you listen? You’re not going back up that hill.”

  Julia went still, horror racing down her body. He released her arm, but she couldn’t move.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice unrecognisably raspy.

  He didn’t answer her, just smiled again, softly caressing her hair from her face. Something cold and hard touched her neck, and the world went black.

  Two

  Thatcher

  I was already awake when my phone rang, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling socks over my feet. It rang out from my bedside table, the sound waking up Liene, who reached over and lazily tossed it my way.

  “Thank you, love,” I said, answering and holding the phone to my ear. “Thatcher.”

  “Morning, sir,” Fry said. Her voice was getting lost in the wind, and I heard her walk to somewhere more sheltered. Where was she? “We’ve got a body out here, sir. It looks like a homicide.”

  Damn.

  “Where?” I asked, slipping from the bed and walking quietly from the room.

  Fry rattled off a location, and I looked it up on my computer. The spot landed in a field, just on the outskirts of the moors.

  “Crikey. All the way out there?”

  “Sadly. Mills has been called in, and Dr Crowe is on her way too,” Fry said.

  “I’m on my way,” I said, reaching over to flick the kettle on. I wasn’t going all the way out there without caffeine in my system.

  “Someone will meet you on the road and walk you down,” she told me. “See you soon.”

  “See you, Fry,” I muttered back, hanging up and grabbing my thermos from the cupboard, scooping coffee in from the tin.

  Liene shuffled in as I waited for the water to boil, one of my jumpers hanging down by her knees, arms wrapped around herself, hair mussed all around her head.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, grabbing her a mug. She shrugged and hoisted herself onto the counter beside me.

  “Work?”

  “Always is. We’ve got a body out in the moors.”

  Liene grimaced, her nose scrunching. “Take a scarf.”

  “Yes, dear,” I laughed, reaching for the kettle and filling the cups. I made the coffee, kissed her on the head and grabbed my coat and scarf, stuffed my feet into my boots and grabbed my keys, heading out into the cold morning.

  It was a bitter morning, and I knew it would be worse out towards the moors. I jumped, grumbling, into the car and got the heaters going, sipping my coffee until I felt warm enough to get going. I put the location into my navigation and made my way from the city, out into the still dark countryside. As I got further out, a set of headlights hung behind me on the road, and I looked back to spot Mills driving behind me and grinned, letting him follow me all the way up through the hills.

  The sun was rising by the time we got there, peering over the sky, turning the day bright. As we reached the site in question, I spotted Fry standing on the side of the road, bundled in a big coat and scarf, her hands in her pockets. I pulled over, Mills parking beside me and jumped out, coffee in hand. There were a few other police cars, as well as the coroner’s ambulance, so Crowe was here already.

  “Morning, sir,” Mills said, wandering over, his own mug in hand.

  “Morning,” I replied, striding over to Fry. “This is remote.”

  “It’s a walking route,” she said, tapping the public footpath sign behind her. “Body’s this way.”

  “Who called it in?” I asked as she led us down the trodden path through the hills.

  “Farmer,” she said. “The footpath cuts through some local land, and the man who owns it was out with his cows when he saw her.”

  “Does he recognise her?” Mills asked.

  Fry shook her head. “But she has an ID on her. Name’s Julia Brook, twenty-three years old.”

  I grimaced, too young.

  Despite the buzz of the crime scene, it was a nice area. The moors spread o
ut before us, plants all around, and I spotted a few rabbits hurrying about from place to place.

  Fry walked us down to the bottom of the hill where the land levelled out, a stream running through. To one side, a field spread out, cows wandering about looking curiously at the police officers milling around, blue and white tape fluttering in the wind. I could see Crowe in her white plastic suit, looking like a white puffball against the grass. Fry held up the tape, letting us duck under, and I gave her a thankful nod as I walked over to Crowe, sipping my coffee.

  “Hi, Lena.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Hiya, Maxie. Mills,” she nodded.

  “Crowe.”

  I sighed as I looked down at the body. A young woman, mud in her blonde hair, lying on her back, face turned up to the sun that rose over her. She might have been peaceful, resting against the heather, eyes closed, were it not for the stab wounds on her neck and chest.

  “Christ,” Mills muttered. I handed him my cup and pulled a pair of gloves on, walking over and squatting opposite Crowe.

  “ID?”

  “Pocket.”

  I fished her purse out from the raincoat she was wearing and looked inside, pulling out her driver’s licence. Julia Brook. I handed it to Mills so that he could take the address and looked at the rest of the contents. There wasn’t much. A debit card, a library card, a few collecting stamps from coffee shops, a ten-pound note and several copper pennies.

  “No bag?” Mills asked.

  I shook my head. “Look at her clothes,” I said. “Raincoat, walking shoes. She didn’t need a bag to go on a walk. Any keys?” I asked, looking up at Fry.

  “None that we found, sir, but we’ll check the area.”

  I nodded, looking back down at Julia, then up at Crowe. She had sat back on her haunches, a worried look on her face, her eyes wide.

  “Lena?” I asked, reaching over to touch her arm.

  She shook her head, hood slipping. “Look at these,” she murmured, moving Julia’s coat aside so that I could see the stab wounds on her chest. They were in a neat formation, three little lines going down her abdomen. And one on her throat. I reeled back, looking at her again, where she lay, the peaceful setting, her closed eyes and swore, looking at Crowe.