Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021)

by Robin Roughley

  Easing to his haunches, Bannister looked at the woman as the tears slid down her cheeks.

  'Believe me, we're going to do all we can to get your daughter back, but to enable us to do that we need to know as much as possible about her friends and movements.'

  '''Movements''?' she asked in confusion.

  Bannister nodded. 'Let's start with last night, can you tell us more about this party she was going to?'

  Samantha looked at him blankly for a few seconds, and then she pulled a wad of tissue from her pocket, scrunching it up in her hands. 'I don't know exactly where the party was being held, but she did mention something about Castle Hill. The boy she went with goes to the same school and he called at the house for her about half-seven, Clara was ready, so he didn't come into the house.'

  'His name is Scott, right?'

  The woman chewed her bottom lip, her eyes still fraught with terror. 'I think so.'

  Bannister held the sigh in check as he stood up and looked down at her. 'Do you have a recent photograph of your daughter?' he asked.

  Rising from the sofa she hurried over to a cupboard in the corner of the room, Bannister glanced at Lasser who raised an eyebrow.

  Opening the drawer, she lifted out the image, turned and handed it to Bannister.

  The picture showed Clara Bell in her school uniform, the tie slightly loose, her face hinted at makeup, fair hair brushing her shoulders as she smiled for the camera.

  'That was taken a few weeks ago,' Samantha explained.

  Bannister nodded in understanding. 'What about friends?'

  'Clara has lots of friends, everyone loves her, but you need to find her, she's my baby and…'

  'Do you know what your daughter was wearing last night?' Bannister interrupted.

  At the door, Lasser watched his boss and although he knew he was struggling inside, you would never have guessed it with the way he was acting. The empathy was there but he was also cutting to the chase knowing that the clock was ticking, and they needed to gather as much information as they could as quickly as possible.

  'To be honest, I'm not sure, I mean, she got dressed in her bedroom, and then I heard her come down the stairs, she shouted bye and then she was gone,' more tears slid from her shell-shocked eyes.

  Lasser could see the pain and anguish on her face as she realised that in truth, she had no idea where her daughter had gone or what she had been wearing.

  'I should know all this, shouldn't I?' she suddenly asked.

  For a couple of seconds, Bannister was thrown by the question and then he shook his head. 'At fifteen, kids want to do their own thing, so you shouldn't blame yourself over this.'

  Samantha looked at him closely as if to check that he wasn't somehow lying to her. 'Please tell me you don't think she's dead?'

  Inside, Lasser winced at the question, then Bannister straightened his shoulders. 'Like I said, we're going to do all we can to find your daughter, I promise you that.'

  Samantha Bell swallowed the fear before lowering her head again, her shoulders shaking as she broke down.

  30

  Clara lay perfectly still as the man wrapped the tape around her ankles, the ripping noise sounding almost like a screech, a piece had been stretched across her mouth, her nostrils flaring as she tried to breathe. Finally, her arms were pulled behind her back and taped tightly.

  Strong hands grabbed her and pushed her back onto the single mattress on the floor, then the man stepped back, and she blinked up at him, mute with terror.

  'You are alone, no one will save you, if you behave you will have food and water, if you try to get out of the ties or try to escape, you will starve, is that clear enough for you?' he asked.

  All Clara could do was nod, tears sparkling in her eyes, she kept seeing Scott being flung back from the car, his head all… Behind the tape she whimpered at the imagery.

  She looked up at him, his features blurred through the shimmering tears, his dark hair was cut short, and he wore black clothing that seemed to bleed together into a single dark shadow. Blinking rapidly, she tried to clear her vision, and then he turned and moved out of focus. Seconds later, she heard a door open and close, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  Clara Bell had no idea where she was, the journey in the car had been the stuff of nightmares, she had laid sprawled on the back seat too terrified to move as the car drove away. At first the horrific sight of Scott was frozen in her shocked mind, and then the car had been bumping and swaying left to right and she had curled herself into a ball until finally the vehicle came to a halt. Then the man had got out of the car and snatched the back door open, dragging her out, the wet grass feeling spongy beneath her feet. She had been aware of the large house to her left as he thrust her down a narrow path, and all the time she had kept her head bowed, her breathing ragged, too scared to even look at him in case he…

  Then the door had been thrust open, and he had pushed her into the cold room made of grey breeze block, her shoes leaving wet prints on the dusty cement floor.

  Now, she lay on her back and looked up at the dirty bulb that hung down on a piece of wire, the light illuminating the swathe of cobwebs that decorated the ceiling.

  Her eyes flitted from side to side seeing everything and nothing, her mind soaked in fear as she tried desperately to calm her racing heart, and for a few minutes she was convinced that she couldn't breathe but then gradually she started to calm down. The terror was there but at least it wasn't all consuming, then an image of her mother swept into her mind, and she pictured her in floods of tears desperate to find her and yet fearing the worst.

  More thoughts came crashing into her mind, as unstoppable as the sea blasting against crumbling rock, the man had killed Scott, and she knew that her chances of escaping with her life were slim at best, but it was the suffering she might have to endure that filled her with fear once more.

  The breeze-block walls appeared to close in around her, the light above seemed to grow dim, and for a few heart-stopping moments she thought the bulb was going to go with a pop, then it flickered and came back to life, and the air whooshed from her flared nostrils. Closing her eyes, bitter tears squeezed free as the despair closed in around her like a tight shroud of terror.

  31

  Lasser watched Sally Wright walk into the house, Bannister having a quick word with her at the door before he headed down the drive and climbed into the passenger seat.

  'Well, that was a waste of time,' Bannister said.

  'Hopefully, Sally might have more joy.'

  'Are you saying I don't have the gentle touch?' Bannister asked as he glanced to his right.

  Lasser chose his next words carefully. 'Do you want to head over to see Scott Clark's parents?'

  Bannister pulled a face for a moment before sighing. 'It has to be done, though it's not something I'm looking forward to.'

  'Do you want me to do it?' Lasser asked.

  For a moment he saw Bannister's expression turn sour, then it was gone to be replaced by a look of intense sadness as he turned fully to face Lasser.

  'Yes, Sergeant, I'd be grateful if you took the lead at the Clarks'.'

  'No problem,' Lasser replied as he clicked his seat belt into place and selected first gear, seconds later they were pulling away from the kerb, the incessant rain continuing to fall from the drab metal-coloured sky.

  32

  Shannon eased the plastic sheet down slightly, Odette nodded as she looked at Julie Rawlins's dead face, the skin the colour of rice paper, the damage to the top of her head was covered with a thick band of white linen.

  'It's definitely her,' Odette said as he covered the face and slid the gurney back into the refrigerated space, the handle falling back into place with a clack.

  Then the double doors were barged open, and a porter dressed in green appeared pushing a trolley, the familiar shape of a body encased in the black rubber bag on top.

  'Who's this?' Shannon asked.

  Glancing at Odett
e, the porter smiled admiringly.

  'Another stiff, headshot wound this time,' he said as he reluctantly dragged his eyes from Odette to Shannon.

  '''Another stiff''?' Odette snapped.

  The man looked taken aback by Odette's tone and the flash of anger in her eyes.

  'That is someone's loved one, they are not just a ''stiff'', you insensitive moron.'

  Shannon glanced at Odette in surprise before looking at the porter whose face was already glowing red.

  'Sorry, gallows humour,' he apologised.

  'I would run now, son, before you dig yourself in any deeper.

  The porter looked at Shannon and nodded rapidly.

  'Yeah, yeah, no problem,' he said before spinning away without looking at Odette.

  'Idiot,' she snapped.

  The doors swung closed, and Shannon ran his fingers through his beard. 'He's new to the job, I know that's no excuse but give him time and he'll not be such an idiot. I'll make sure of it.'

  Taking a deep breath, Odette nodded. 'Sorry, Doc, I shouldn't have snapped like that.'

  'Hey, you were right,' he said as he walked over to the trolley. 'No doubt this will be Scott Clark.'

  Moving to his side, Odette steeled herself as Shannon slowly slid the zipper down, and then she felt nauseated as the damage done to the boy's head was revealed.

  'Poor lad,' the doc said with a shake of the head.

  Odette turned her head slightly to avoid looking at the teenager's annihilated head on the trolley.

  'Shotgun blast?' she asked.

  Leaning down slightly, Shannon studied the blood-soaked grisly mess and then pursed his lips. 'More than likely, you can see the speckled marks in the flesh, most probably lead shot. I'd say the blast hit him from less than six feet away.'

  'Bannister said he was found at the side of the road, they think he was shot from a car, possibly one that had pulled over to the kerb.'

  'Makes sense,' the doc replied before zipping the bag up.

  Odette let out the thin shivering sigh of relief as the remains vanished.

  'The thing is that with a shotgun you don't have to be an expert, the lead spreads so there's little chance of missing the target over close range.'

  'Will you be doing the autopsy today?' she asked.

  Shannon glanced at the clock on the wall. 'I doubt it, I never like to start the process and then have to stop halfway through, so I'll make a start in the morning.'

  'No problem,' she patted Shannon on the shoulder and headed for the door, she heard the clack of the handle again as the doctor opened the fridge unit, the familiar sound making her skin crawl as she left the room.

  33

  Morgan sat in the passenger seat, her mother behind the wheel, the streetlights gliding by as they headed for home, the atmosphere filled with crackling tension.

  She had wanted to go in and see her dad, but the doctor had refused her request, saying they had tests to do and her father was being kept sedated for now.

  In the end, he had advised them to go home for the night and come back the following day when he would hopefully have some answers for them. He promised someone would ring if there was any change in his condition during the night. At first, Morgan had been devastated at the news, but in the end her mother had persuaded her that going home was best for now.

  Though as they drove through the darkness, the feeling that she was deserting her dad grew with every mile that passed by.

  The ring road was busy as people headed home from work, head and tail lights flashed making her wince against the glare.

  'Are you OK?' her mother asked quietly, when she got no reply Hannah glanced at her daughter seeing the anguish on her face. 'Why don't we get a takeaway on the way home?' she asked.

  'I'm not hungry,' Morgan replied.

  'But you haven't eaten anything today, and I'm not in the mood for cooking so…'

  'You can get something if you want, but I can't even think about food, not yet.'

  Hannah held the sigh at bay, unsure if she had heard a hint of disapproval in Morgan's voice.

  For the next five minutes silence reigned, and then Hannah indicated before pulling onto the car park of The Curry Pot, the smell of spices drifting in through the vents as she reached over to grab her bag from the back seat.

  'I'll get enough for two then if you change your mind, you can always have some later.'

  'I won't change my mind,' Morgan replied.

  This time there was no denying the disapproval in her voice, but Hannah didn't react as she pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain. 'I won't be long.'

  'Whatever,' Morgan replied dismissively.

  Half a second later, the door closed, and she turned her face away, watching the rain speckle the black tarmac, then her eyes filled with tears as she thought of her father on the kitchen floor, his hands clasped to the side of his head, pain smeared across his face as she sprinted from the room and dashed up the stairs.

  Her mother had said that he was in the best place, and she knew that was right, so why did this feel so wrong, driving away from the hospital, and now here they were parked up while her mother got herself a curry.

  Morgan felt a flutter of anger inside, then her phone beeped, and she ignored it, her mind fractured with fear and dismay, then it went for a second time and she reluctantly lifted it from her pocket.

  When she saw Elle's name on the screen her eyes widened in shock, and then she tapped open the text and read the short message, her brow now creased in confusion as she re-read the words.

  'I'm so sorry to hear about Scott, I hope you are OK?'

  The sense of confusion deepened, surely Elle meant she was sorry to hear about her father?

  Headlights flared, lighting the interior of the car as she tapped out the short reply. 'What's the matter with Scott?'

  Something must have happened but right now she didn't care, it seemed a lifetime ago since she had been panicking about not being able to make it to the party. It had seemed like the end of her world as she pictured how things would unfold at school, Scott flipping when he saw her, demanding to know why she hadn't turned up for the date, and then dumping her right there in the schoolyard with a crowd surrounding them. It had been the stuff of nightmares, and yet now it all seemed pathetic and childish, her father was seriously ill and all that mattered was being there for him when he woke up.

  When the text came through, she opened the message and gasped as the last three words drilled into her mind.

  'I thought you knew, Scott's been killed.'

  Morgan snapped her head up, her eyes flicking left and right, almost as if she expected to see someone standing in front of the car peering in at her shocked face.

  Then she stabbed at the screen and, seconds later, it started to bleat, Elle answered on the third ring.

  'Are you OK?' Elle asked, her voice tight with concern.

  At the sound of her friend's voice, the tears trickled from Morgan's eyes as she swallowed the distress.

  'What do you mean Scott's been killed?' she asked.

  'It's all over Facebook and the news.'

  Morgan wiped a hand across her face, unable to fathom that this conversation was even taking place.

  'He went to a party last night at Billy Meo's house, he was with Clara Bell and they left early, but according to Meo, someone attacked them on Castle Hill,' Elle paused, 'Scott was shot dead and Clara's vanished.'

  Morgan's hand started to shake as Elle's words crashed into her mind, she thought of Scott smiling, his arm hooked around her shoulder as they strutted across the schoolyard.

  'But he can't be dead, you must have got it wrong and…'

  'I got in touch because I was terrified that it was you that had gone with him, you that had been snatched,' Elle interrupted, her tone full of distress.

  Morgan Pence gripped the phone tight. 'He wanted me to go but you know what my parents are like, they…' Suddenly an image of her father flashed into her head, his fac
e blanched with pain as the machine by the side of the bed beeped.

  'I'm sorry, Morg, perhaps I shouldn't have sent the text, but I needed to know you were OK'

  'My dad's in hospital.'

  'What!?'

  'They think he could have a brain tumour, I'm just on my way back from the hospital, he collapsed in the kitchen this morning, and I've been at the hospital all day, and I'm so scared, Elle, I don't know what to do.'

  'Do you want me to come over?'

  Morgan sniffed back the tears, her throat tight with emotion, her mind awhirl with confusion and the terror of the unknown. 'Would you?' she eventually asked.

  'I'll get my mum to drop me off, I can be there in twenty minutes.'

  Morgan watched the rain sliding down the windscreen with haunted eyes. 'There's one thing, Elle, my mum doesn't know I was going out with Scott.'

  'You never told her?' Elle asked in shock.

  'I didn't tell either of them,' Morgan admitted.

  The silence stretched out for a few seconds, and then Elle replied. 'That's OK, Morg, I'll not say anything about it.'

  'I've missed you, Elle,' Morgan blurted out the admission before she had time to think.

  'I've missed you too.'

  'Thanks for being my friend,' Morgan said through a sob.

  'I'll meet you at the house in twenty,' Elle replied, her own voice trembling with emotion.

  Before she could reply, the call ended, the screen went black, and Morgan Pence bowed her head in incomprehensible dread.

  34

  Shaun knocked at the door and waited for a reply, he was standing outside the bungalow trying to shelter beneath the small porch that covered the front door, though he could still feel the rain hitting the back of his head as he shivered in the downpour. He could even hear it pinging off the roof of the Fiat Panda parked on the drive.

  Half a minute later, the door opened, and an elderly thickset man looked out at him, he was wearing checked shirt and dark trousers, his feet encased in a pair of black boots. 'I'm sorry for being late, Mr Barry, but the traffic was horrendous.'