Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021)

by Robin Roughley

  The sense of hope began to diminish as they realised that Carole was correct, putting all their eggs in one basket was dangerous, and focusing on this one opportunity could prove to be disastrous.

  Pushing to his feet, Bannister nodded. 'Right, I suggest we all get some rest and keep our fingers crossed that by this time tomorrow we'll have the bastard behind bars.'

  They filed out of the room, Carole turned and looked around her office before clicking off the light, the room falling into darkness as she quietly closed the door.

  53

  The fox moved through the undergrowth, the sound of the swollen river rushing through the woods loud to its attuned hearing, the animal stopped for a moment to sniff at the wet air. Thrusting free of the tall ferns, the fox shook itself sending a spray of water into the darkness before it slinked forward. It had picked up the strange scent whilst scavenging through the undergrowth, a discarded chunk of a burger was wolfed down, and then it had moved forward, nose to the ground, as it weaved around bushes and trees, the scent slowly growing stronger. Then the ground had started to climb, the rain lashing down between the towering trees, turning its reddish fur a dark brown. This was a regular track that the animal took on a nightly basis, and yet it had never picked up the strange scent before. In its animal brain it knew something was different, and then it shook itself once more and moved forward, though more slowly this time, the ground beneath had turned to mush, after a weeks' worth of rain rivulets had been gouged through the dark soil picking up speed and widening before the water joined the river below. Mud clung to its paws; muscles flexed as it moved up the steep incline heading towards where the ground levelled out into the open fields.

  Then the smell came again, and the fox started to lower itself, brush tucked low, body hunched, nose close to the ground where the rivulets were now running in a torrent down the steep valley taking chunks of earth with it.

  When it came across the unearthed bones, the animal stopped again and sniffed at the dull grey shards, the torrential rain washing away the dirt, then the animal lifted its head, neck stretched back as it barked into the darkness, the sound – smothered by the noise of the rain – slowly turned into a howl, a piercing screech, and then the fox was running, seconds later it made it to the open field, animal instinct taking over as it vanished into the tall wet grass.

  54

  Bannister tried to keep the barriers up as he stepped into the shower, letting the water pummel the top of his head washing the shampoo onto his body. Lasser had suggested that he sleep on the boat again, but this time he had declined the offer.

  'I need to get back home and make sure things are OK, plus there's nothing like your own bed.

  'Do you want me to pick you up in the morning?' Lasser had asked.

  'No, I'll take the car and meet you at the station at nine.'

  He had watched as Lasser drove away, then he turned and looked at the darkened house, and for the briefest of moments he had almost put the call in to Lasser, asking him to come back and get him. Then he had straightened his shoulders and cursed low under his breath before entering the house, clicking on the hall light and heading straight up the stairs to the bathroom.

  Now, he turned the shower off and stepped out before wrapping a towel around his waist, his feet leaving imprints on the floor as he headed out onto the landing and moved towards the bedroom. As always, he halted in the doorway, his chest rising and falling, water dripping to the carpeted floor, light spilled into the room and this time he stepped forward and closed the door without bothering to turn on the main light.

  Moving to the bed, he pulled the towel off and lay down, breathing deeply through his nose he caught the faint scent of his wife and suddenly he realised that a day would come when even that would vanish, the thought brought tears to his eyes as he rested his head on the pillow.

  Time the great obliterator, destroyed everything; memories faded. Flesh aged and bones grew fragile. As he lay there, he tried to fathom what he would do when his own mind and body started to fail him, he wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination, yet even now he could feel time waiting in the wings as if to say, 'I've got my eye on you, sunshine.'

  He wondered if Suzanne had felt the same way, in her quiet moments when there was no one else around before they had found out she was ill. In the end she had confided in Lasser that she was going to die, and for a while he had never wanted to see Lasser again let alone hear his name, but now that was all sorted and he understood completely why he had kept the secret. Though now as he lay in the darkness with his eyes open, he realised that the only reason she had told Lasser was because she had been frightened about what the future held.

  He couldn't imagine what she had gone through trying to protect those she loved from the truth for as long as possible. Before she had died, she had admitted that she had made a mistake, then again, the end had come so fast that it had crushed them all. But how had she coped with time hovering over her, death at her shoulder waiting to strike, feeling her own body turn against her and let her down in the most devastating way.

  Bannister screwed his eyes closed and the tears slipped free as the torment enveloped him in its dark embrace.

  55

  Taking a bite from the pie, Lasser closed his eyes and Jackie smiled as she shook her head.

  'What is it with Wiganers and pies?' she asked, stroking Poppet's ear.

  'Food of the Gods,' he said with a smile.

  The boat moved slightly in the strong wind as he took another bite.

  'I sometimes think that no matter what I cook for you, you always prefer a shop bought pie.'

  'No way, you're a fantastic cook.'

  'But you never look as ecstatic when you're eating something of mine.'

  Picking up the can of Vimto, Lasser took a glug. 'The thing is when me and Tasha were growing up all we really ate was either a pie or a bag of chips from Frank's.'

  Jackie felt the hint of sadness inside, over time he had told her a lot about his life when he was growing up, and the truth was it was an upbringing that had made her shudder.

  'Well, there's another in the oven if you want it.'

  'What about you?' he asked as he polished off the last of the pie.

  'I had a salad earlier.'

  Lasser didn't need telling twice, he bolted to his feet, heading for the oven.

  'How was Alan when you dropped him off?' she asked.

  Seconds later he was back on the sofa, the second pie on the plate. 'It's strange, but in the past whenever I used to drop him off, the lights were always on in the house and there could be up to four cars on the drive if everyone was at home, now the place was in darkness, and it just doesn't feel right.'

  'I spoke to Chrissie earlier and she'd be happy for Alan to watch the boat while she goes travelling.'

  'That's good.'

  'Do you think he'll be OK on there?'

  Breaking off a piece of crust, he popped it into his mouth as the whippet lifted her head and sniffed the air. 'He'll be fine and let's be honest, it will give him an idea of what it would be like if he decided to sell the house.'

  'In the end I think he'll put the house up for sale.'

  Lasser looked at her and then nodded. 'I guess you could be right, but it will feel strange not being able to go there anymore.'

  'For you, you mean?'

  Lasser sighed as he placed the pie on the plate. 'Sound selfish I know, but I can't help it, Suzanne loved her home, and whenever I picture her it's always either in the house or the garden.'

  Jackie smiled and nodded in understanding. 'I know.'

  'Yet the girls have moved on, and I think Bannister will do the same, it just feels like the end on an era.'

  'Life moves on I guess.'

  Lasser placed the plate on the small table, his appetite suddenly vanishing, the image of Suzanne fading in his mind to be replaced by the photograph of Clara Bell, a schoolkid who had been snatched from the roadside after her part-time boyfriend had
been killed.

  'Are you OK?' she asked.

  Wiping his fingers on a piece of kitchen roll, he looked at her and tried to smile. 'I'm fine.'

  Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow and the smile slipped from his face.

  'How come you always see through my bullshit?' he asked.

  Leaning against him, she rested her head on his shoulder. 'Come on, everyone knows what you're like, you take things personally, and it shows on your face.'

  'Old and haggard before my time.'

  Tilting her face, she looked up at him before trailing her finger across his chin. 'You never look any different, not a grey hair, laughter lines and…'

  Lasser barked a laugh, and Jackie frowned.

  'Laughter lines? Behave, woman.'

  'I'm serious.'

  Glancing down at her, he smiled again before dipping and kissing the tip of her nose. 'Perhaps when the weather brightens up, I can take another holiday and we can get away for a few days, head up to the Lakes.'

  Jackie eased away and sighed. 'That is what's called changing the subject, and you are an expert at it.'

  'Well, I have to be good at something,' he offered with a wry grin.

  'Is it the missing schoolgirl that's bothering you?' she asked as she lifted the cup from the table and took a drink, looking at him over the rim.

  'That's bad enough but we're almost convinced that the copycat killer could have taken her.'

  Jackie felt the shiver flutter over her skin. 'No wonder you look so worried.'

  Stretching out his legs, Lasser stifled a yawn. 'It was Roger who came up with the idea, he spotted that Julie Rawlins was murdered on the same date as Ethel Brab.'

  'So, the killer not only copied the crime scene, but he also killed that poor nurse on the same date?'

  'Yeah,' Lasser paused, 'but the thing is, if it is the same guy who took Clara and he's using the same list of unsolved murders that we're looking at, then it means we have an idea where he could be tomorrow.'

  'Tomorrow?' she asked in shocked surprise.

  Lasser nodded. 'I know it's a long shot, but it's all we have to go on at the moment.'

  'And it's not too hard to guess who's going to be hiding to see if the killer turns up,' she said with a sudden brittle edge to her voice, her brow creasing in concern.

  'It's an old mill in town, I'll be fine.''

  Jackie sighed and shook her head. 'Just be careful.'

  Lasser nodded as he saw the solemn expression on her face. 'Always,' he replied.

  Jackie didn't look convinced.

  56

  Elle watched as her friend slept, they were both on the bed, and Morgan had drifted away, her face etched with worry. Holding the sigh at bay, Elle looked around the room and thought of all the times she had been here in the past. They had first met at junior school and straight away they had become best friends in that strange way that young children in a new school would often do.

  Even now as she looked around the bedroom, she could see one of the teddies that Morgan had had as a kid, and Elle smiled as she recalled the times they had sat on the bed and played with them together. It seemed so long ago and yet it didn't, and here they were back together again, but now Morgan had the worry over her father and the murder of Scott Clark to contend with. As soon as Morgan had started to go out with Scott, things had changed, the closeness they had shared had all but vanished overnight.

  At first, she had been upset about what had happened, but then she'd had a talk with her mum who had put things into perspective, and Elle had decided to remain adult about the situation, though it hadn't been easy. It had nothing to do with the fact that Morgan had a boyfriend, it had been the way her friend had ignored her. She thought of the times they would see one another at school and Morgan would blank her completely, her nose in the air, her hair done to perfection, she had even started to wear makeup and her school skirt had become shorter as she rolled it up from the waistband.

  Up until that point they had been close, and they would often laugh together at the older girls in school as they strutted around pretending to be women and looking ridiculous, and then Morgan had met Scott and copied the girls they had both found laughable.

  Looking at Morgan, she felt a small thrum of aggravation pass through her mind, and then the sigh eased from her lips. No doubt they were both growing up and perhaps one day when they left school they would look back and laugh at the way they had behaved.

  Morgan moaned in her sleep and rolled over, Elle eased from the bed and walked over to the window, the curtains were open, rain trickling down the glass, she looked up but there was no sign of the moon or stars, they were all hidden behind the clouds that seemed to have been hanging around for days, but even they were lost to the darkness.

  Outside, she saw a car drive past, headlights reflecting on the wet surface, the bushes in the garden swaying in the wind as a fresh splatter of rain hit the glass.

  She thought of Morgan's parents, they had always been good with her, now James was in hospital and she knew by the fear in Morgan's eyes and in her voice that it didn't look good.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw that Morgan had turned around again, she had tears on her cheeks, her face pained even as she slept.

  'Poor Morg,' she whispered before turning back to the window.

  57

  Bannister opened his eyes with the feeling that something wasn't right, he blinked at the empty pillow, and as usual his heart sank as he realised that Suzanne was gone, then he frowned and sat up, the sense of unease still lodged in his mind.

  His hair was mussed up on one side and he ran a hand over his chin feeling the bristles before swinging his feet to the floor and standing up. Minutes later he was back in the shower and then he took the time to have a shave while trying his best to ignore the reflection that stared back at him, afraid of what he would see in his eyes.

  Turning off the tap, he dabbed at his face and headed back into the bedroom, standing at the window with a towel wrapped around his waist. For once, the rain had eased from a downpour to a drizzle and the wind had dropped. When his phone chimed, he turned and grabbed it from the bedside cabinet answering it without checking who was calling.

  'Morning, Alan.'

  'Morning, Jackie, is there a problem?'

  'No problem, Lasser left for the station about ten minutes ago,' she paused, 'the thing is, I've been in touch with my friend and I was wondering, when you have a chance, whether you want me to take you over so you can meet her and see the boat?'

  'Christ that was quick.'

  'Well, there's no rush, she doesn't leave for another two weeks but I wanted to give you the heads up.'

  'Right, I'm not sure about tonight, but…'

  'I know, you're on a stakeout.'

  'Sounds naff, doesn't it?'

  'Sounds dangerous.'

  Wandering back over to the window, he looked down, the garden was still flooded though the water level had dropped slightly from the day before. 'I just hope the bastard shows up then we can get him.'

  The phone fell silent for a couple of seconds, and he was sure he heard Jackie sigh lightly.

  'I told Lasser to be careful, and I'm telling you the same.'

  Bannister ran a hand over his damp hair, flattening it down. 'Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him.'

  'And he'll do the same for you.'

  'I know he will,' he admitted. 'And I promise as soon as I have a spare couple of hours then we can go and check the boat.'

  'No problem, and if you fancy coming back here tonight, I was going to do a roast dinner with all the trimmings, you can have it when you get back from the stakeout.'

  Bannister opened his mouth and closed it again. 'Thanks for the offer, Jackie, but if I'm going to be staying on your friend's boat then it's better if I come back here for a few days.'

  'I understand, but the offer's still there if you want it.'

  'And I appreciate that. Right, I'd better get a move on oth
erwise I'll be late.'

  'OK and tell Lasser to give me a ring when he gets the chance.'

  'Will do,' he replied before ending the call.

  Going in search of his clothes, his brow was still furrowed, the sense that something was wrong eating away at his mind.

  'What the fuck is it?' he growled as he started to get dressed.

  Ten minutes later he was behind the wheel of the Range Rover, the sense of confusion and slow-creeping dread spreading through his mind as he drove away from the house.

  58

  The man looked down at the outbuilding, his hands clenched, beads of excited sweat standing out on his brow as he thought about the coming day and how it would unfold.

  He had woken early, the darkness at the window, the wind and rain battering the glass. Now, two hours later, the rain had softened, and the wind had all but vanished.

  In many ways, it was similar weather to all those years ago when the killer had struck.

  Half an hour earlier, he had grabbed the computer, sat on the bed and logged on before heading to the file that contained all the information on the second killing, he took his time absorbing every scrap of information, reading the reports from the time, almost laughing at the stupidity of the police. All the clues had been there, yet they had been either too stupid or too lazy to follow the links.

  Even now, all these years later, he was convinced that the present-day force were equally as inept as their earlier counterparts.

  Scrolling down the screen, he had reached the end of the file, though this time the information had been sketchy, not that it mattered he had all the details he needed, he had everything, victim, motive and even the place where the murder had taken place, his mentor had seen to that.

  Closing the computer with a snap, he had walked over to the window and now here he stood wishing the day away, desperate to get moving, his nerves thrumming with the thrill of what lay ahead.