“What is it?” Mills asked. “Sir?”
“It looks the same,” I said dimly, barely aware of him by my shoulder.
Crowe looked sick and nodded.
I stood up, blowing out a long breath, ripping my gloves off and pushing my hair back from my feet, feeling cold sweat down my back. Mills steadied me with a hand on my arm, and I took my coffee from him, sipping nervously.
“Sir?”
“When I was DS,” I told him. “I had a homicide, one of the first ones I worked solo. A few victims, all with the same style. One on the throat, three on the chest. Never caught the killer. The case went cold.”
Crowe stood up, sighing. “I’ll get her back to the station, do a full autopsy. It might not be the same.”
“Could be a copycat,” Mills suggested.
“The first killer left a few calling cards that we didn’t reveal to the public,” Crowe said. “I’ll find out.” She reached over, squeezing my arm and nodded to her crew, who gathered round to take Julia away. I looked around the little route we were on.
“You have to drive here,” Mills remarked, drawing me back to the present. “But there’s no car that’s not one of ours up there.”
I nodded, my eyes tracing the surrounding hills. “She wasn’t here alone; we know that much. Where’s the farmer?” I asked, turning to find Fry.
“Over here,” she said, walking over to the fence of the field. A man was standing there, leaning against the fence, his hat in his hands, looking down at the grass, a cow hovering by him.
“Mr Slater?” She called as we walked over. He lifted his head, standing up straight. “This is Detective Chief Inspector Thatcher and Detective Sergeant Mills. Sir, this is Mr Slater. He called us in.”
I reached out, shaking the man’s hand.
“This is your farm?”
“Aye,” he said, pulling his hat onto his head. “Family’s been working these hills for years now.”
“A nice location,” I said, “beautiful cows,” I added, nodding at the one closest to us, big brown eyes watching the chaos.
“Thank you. Dairy,” he added.
“Can you run us through this morning, Mr Slater? Finding the body.”
He nodded, rubbing his jaw. “I woke up, same as usual, got to the chores. Herded these lot over from the north field,” he pointed over his shoulder. “down here. I’d gotten them in, walked out to give myself a little splash from the stream, and I saw her feet first.” He broke off, swallowing loudly and shaking his head. “Saw her throat and the blood and her face. She looks young.”
“She does,” I agreed softly.
“Called it in there and then,” he said with a nod. “Had to walk up the road to get a signal, and then I stayed up there to help your lot to the place and stayed put here.”
I nodded. “And you’ve never seen her before?”
“Never.”
“I imagine you get a lot of walkers this way,” I said.
“Mostly in the summer,” he said gruffly. “This time of year, not so many.”
“Thank you, Mr Slater,” I said, shaking his hand again and turning away.
Mills and I strode away, back over to where SOCO milled about, searching for something useful in the grass.
“She’d have been here overnight,” I muttered. “Which means finding any witnesses won’t be easy.”
Mills grimaced, looking up at the route.
“Crowe will be able to tell us,” he said. I nodded, and we started off away from the site, back up the walk, the noise falling behind us.
“So,” Mills began slowly, “looks like an old case of yours?”
I nodded, gritting my teeth. “I would have been your age, about then.” That had been a bad year for many reasons, and my inability to find a killer had been high on the list.
It was eerily the same. A remote location, a young woman lying in the grass, myself and Crowe kneeling by the body. She’d been there back then as well.
“If it is the same killer,” Mills said. “You’re a better detective now, so I don’t doubt you’ll be able to find them.”
I looked sideways at him and smiled slightly. “Cheers, Mills. Got you for support now too, which is nice.”
“Oh, a compliment. You are rattled, aren’t you?”
“I will push you into a hedge,” I warned him, raising my hand. He looked to his left and grimaced.
“That’s mostly stinging nettles down there. Please don’t.”
“A few nettles don’t hurt that much,” I said. “I once fell into a whole patch of them as a lad, fell off a gate I was sitting on.”
“Well, you’re probably immune now, if nothing else,” Mills muttered. We made it up the road to where Crowe was shutting the ambulance doors, her suit pushed down to her waist.
“Give me your arm, Maxie,” she called. I rolled my eyes, walked over, and let her brace against my arm as she wormed her feet from the suit, kicking it to the ground.
“Got a time of death for us, Lena?” I asked.
She got her feet free, picked her suit up with a sigh and stuffed it into her bag.
“She was there for a while,” she said. “I’d say late afternoon, early evening.”
“Nobody else used that path then?” Mills said, scratching the back of his head.
“Was a bit grim yesterday,” Crowe said, zipping her bag up and throwing it into her boot. “Not the weather most people look to for a walk through the moors.”
“Unless you really like the Brontes,” Mills said.
“Or want to meet someone without people seeing you,” I added. “That was the killer’s M.O. last time. Get them alone, far away from the public eye.”
“All the girls were hiding something,” Crowe recalled. “A new friendship or romantic partner.”
“Maybe her family will be able to shed some light,” Mills offered.
I nodded. “Let’s hope. See you back at the station, Lena.”
She gave me a grim smile, walking around to slide into her car, leaving us standing on the road, wind buffeting our hair.
“Not many places to park,” I remarked. “The killer would have had to come back up here, carrying a knife, covered in blood.”
Mills looked around at the flattened ground.
“Why would they come back after all those years?” He asked.
“Who knows?” I shrugged. “If it is them,” I had to add for my own sanity. Crowe was right. There were details that were never released, ones that would tell us if this was the same one or if some bleak copycat decided to recreate the case. Four women in total, back then.
“You’ve got the address from her licence?” I asked Mills.
He nodded, holding up his notebook.
“Let’s track down Julia Brook then,” I said. “See about getting in touch with her family.”
“She must live with someone,” he said as we walked over to our cars.
“Why do you say that?”
“She didn’t have any keys,” he said. “If she lived with someone, she wouldn’t worry about carrying house keys with her.”
“Or she dropped them out there somewhere,” I waved a hand towards the moors. “But that would make sense. Whoever it was, the old killer or some newbie, she would have trusted them enough to come all the way out here alone.”
“No phone,” Mills stopped, his hand on his car door. “She didn’t have a phone.”
I grabbed my radio and brought it up to my face.
“Fry?”
“Here, sir,” the voice crackled through.
“Any sign of a phone for Julia Brook?”
“Not on the body, sir, and we’ve not found one down here.”
“Cheers,” I replied, dropping the radio. “So, Julia came all the way out here, no keys, no phone?”
“Or she left them in the car,” Mills suggested. “She might have driven here; the killer could have taken her car. Some people leave their phones when they go to places like that, enjoy the scenery and
all that.”
“No signal down there anyway,” I said. “Mr Slater said that he had to come up here to call it in.”
“If she had a smartphone, we should be able to locate it,” Mills said.
“Sounds like the sooner we talk to her family, the better,” I said.
“You want to call in family liaison?” he asked.
I nodded, thinking about the state we had found her in. “We’ll stop at the station first and grab O’Flynn. Even if she did live alone, it’ll be easier to have her around when we find them.”
Mills nodded and jumped into his car, peeling away down the road. I stayed put, breathing deeply, my eyes closed. The memories from those years ago swirled around, and I groaned, pinching my nose and getting in the car. Past was the past, and right now, the only thing that I had to think about was Julia Brook and her fate.
Three
Thatcher
I felt awful the whole drive down to the city, the feeling of familiarity too strong, the image of Julia Brooks in my head, so like the four other women I had failed to help. Even Crowe had looked shaken, and it was hard to shake her in any way, shape, or form.
I was glad that we would stop at the station before tracking down Julia’s family, a little pit stop to gather my thoughts. Mills got back before me, his car already in its usual spot, and I parked beside it, climbing out and heading into the station, jogging up the stairs. Before I could get to the office, Sharp emerged from her own, striding directly over to me.
“Thatcher.”
“Ma’am.”
“Crowe saw me when she got in. Said we’ve got a familiar killing on our hands.”
I nodded, stepping aside to speak more privately. “She’s looking the body over to look for the details, but so far, it’s a match. The victim, the location, the way her body was left, the stab wounds. I feel like I’m twenty-nine years old again.”
“Well, you’re not,” Sharp insisted, making me look up at her. “You’re my best inspector in this bloody station, perhaps even in the county. You will find him. I know you will. And I remember the case from before.”
“You helped me with it,” I recalled fondly.
“I tried to,” she sighed. “but I will help you again. So, tell me what you’ve got.”
“A young woman, twenty-three years old. Name’s Julia Brook. We’ve got an address from her driver’s licence, but no sign of her phone anywhere. Nor any keys, so Mills suggested that she doesn’t live alone.”
“Remote location?” she asked.
“Walking route out in the moors. Would have needed a car to get there and back.”
“So, the killer drove her there?”
“I’d say so.”
Sharp muttered a curse under her breath. “Hop to it then, Thatcher. I’ll give you as many resources on this as I can. Are you still working on that robbery from last week?”
“Still got it.”
“I’ll reassign it. Give this your full focus.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Thatcher,” she added before I walked away. “A lot of things are different this time, don’t forget that.”
I gave her a grateful smile, turning and walking to the office. Mills was there, stood up at his desk, his coat still on, and he glanced up as I walked in.
“Found her,” he said. “Julia Brook and her family. Parents still living, both also placed at the same address. Got a sister too, but she’s not at home anymore.”
“Alright,” I sighed. “O’Flynn?”
“Ready to go now, sir.”
“Let’s get this over with then,” I muttered, grabbing Julia’s driving license from where it rested on Mills’s desk.
“I’ll drive,” he offered, looking me over with a worried frown on his face.
“Cheers,” I said, walking back out. “O’Flynn? Cora?”
“Here.” She popped her head out from the kitchen, screwed a lid on her water bottle, and walked over, offering me a smile. “Mills filled me in.”
“Let’s head out then,” I said, leading the pair of them down the stairs and outside where we piled into Mills’s car, and he reversed out, hitting the road.
The Brook’s house was only across the city, in a quiet little area that bordered the countryside, fields spreading out behind the cluster of houses we drove towards, the roads narrow and winding. The house was an old building, semi-detached, with bright peeling paint on the door and window fixtures, a tended front garden that hadn’t yet grown, a few small trees growing through the concrete. Mills stopped in their driveway, a little yellow car outside the garage and we climbed out. I ran my fingers through my hair, fixing my coat collar as we walked to the front door, ringing the bell. Mills and O’Flynn shifted so that she stood beside me, her gentle face a welcome counterpart to mine.
The door opened, a young woman with a baby on her hip standing in the space. She looked us over and frowned, then turned her head back into the house.
“Mum!” she shouted, looking at me. “Can I help?”
“Are we right in saying that this is the home of Julia Brook?” I asked.
She nodded, looking hesitant as an older woman with grey in her hair bustled over.
“Yes, hello?” she asked.
“Mrs Brook?”
“I am.”
“I’m Detective Chief Inspector Thatcher, North Yorkshire Police,” I said, showing her my ID. “This is Detective Sergeant Mills and Cora O’Flynn. May we come in? I’m afraid we have some bad news to share with you.”
Her face fell, and she nodded numbly. “Lisa, go and get your father,” she said to the other girl. She walked away, cradling her baby tightly, and Mrs Brook held the door open wider, letting us file in. She led us down the hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking, into a well-lit living room with bright wallpaper and an ancient-looking piano in the corner.
“Have a seat,” she said, indicating the sofa. We squished on together, and she lowered herself onto a chair opposite. The door opened, and Lisa returned, without the baby, but with an older man in tow. He looked us over.
“Detectives, is it?” he asked, sitting beside his wife. “How can we help?”
I swallowed, my mouth dry. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but your daughter Julia Brook was discovered earlier this morning.”
“Discovered?” Lisa repeated.
“Her body was discovered,” I clarified. “I’m afraid that she is dead.”
“Julia?” Mrs Brook asked. “Our Julia, are you sure?”
“Sadly, yes.”
She sobbed, her hands flying to her face.
“Dead, how?” Lisa asked. “Was it an accident?” Tears streamed down her face, but she kept her stare on my face. Her hands were folded in her lap, turning a wedding ring on her finger.
“We are investigating her death as a homicide,” I told them.
Lisa’s face contorted, and Mr Brook reached both his arms out, wrapping them around their shoulders, lowering his own head to his chest.
We sat there for a while, letting them process, letting them grieve. Cora subtly nudged her water bottle into my hand, and I gratefully took a few large gulps before handing the bottle back. Lisa was the first one to recover, looking up at me.
“Where?” she asked.
“Out towards the moors,” I said. “A public walking route.”
“The moors?” her mother asked. “She came from there.”
“I’m sorry?”
“She came back from her walk. She said she was staying at her friend’s house. She texted me.”
Mills and I exchanged a look.
“May I see?” I asked. Her eyes were wide as she pulled her phone from her pocket with shaking fingers and unlocked it, holding it out. I gently took it from her and opened the last text between her and Julia.
“Hi, mum! Walk’s all done, didn’t rain (told you so). I’m getting a coffee with Laura; she’s having Evan problems again and might stay at hers tonight but will let you know.”<
br />
“Okay, darling. Glad you had a good walk.”
“Hi, mum, going to stay with Laura tonight. I think she needs the girl time.”
“Have a lovely time, darling. Give my love to Laura.”
The first text was sent just before six. He’d copied her style, that was clear, looking at her earlier texts between the two of them. He’d copied her language and her punctuation, using the same little emojis and everything.
“What time did Julia leave for her walk?” I asked.
“Half four,” Mrs Brook answered. “I popped round to Lisa’s after that. She didn’t go to Laura’s?”
“She did not,” I answered. “She never left the moors.”
“So—” she faltered. “So, who texted me?”
“Whoever has her phone, I’m afraid.”
Mrs Brook looked rightly horrified, and Lisa looked sick, her head turning as the baby started wailing from another room. She looked back at me, and I gave her a little nod. She was on her feet a second later, out the door, and I looked back at Mr and Mrs Brook.
“Do you know who she went on the walk with?” I asked. “We don’t believe she was there alone.”
“She went with her new fella,” Mr Brooks said, wiping his face with the sleeve of his fleece.
“What’s his name?” Cora asked gently.
“We don’t know.” Mrs Brook almost laughed. “We haven’t met him. We’ve no idea who he is, only that they met at work.”
“At work?” Mills pushed.
“They didn’t work together,” Mr Brook clarified. “Julia’s a waitress in town, and they met there. A few months ago, now, she rather likes him.”
“Could we get the name of the restaurant?” I asked. “Perhaps one of her co-workers will know him.”
“L’agneau,” Mr Brook answered. “Little place, family-run.”
Mills made a note of it, and I looked up at Julia’s parents.
“Did you ever see her boyfriend? It might be useful to get a description of him.”
“We didn’t,” Mrs Brook admitted. “She never invited him in, and when he picked her up yesterday, his car was up the road.”
He didn’t want to be seen. Of course, he wouldn’t walk to the door to collect her.
“And you said they met around a month ago?”
Vicious Cycle (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 9) Page 3