The Dare: An absolutely gripping crime thriller

by Wyer, Carol

  Claire Dunbar looked older than fourteen, with short, wavy, black hair that accentuated her sharp features and dark, groomed eyebrows. She wasn’t especially tall but she exuded a confidence as she slipped onto the chair that had been vacated by Holly and spoke before Lucy could begin questioning her.

  ‘I know why you want to talk to me but I want to say Savannah started it.’

  ‘I take it you are referring to the fight you had with Savannah Hopkins, yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘It wasn’t much of a fight – she spat at me because I called her some names, then she suddenly threw herself at me, slapped me and grabbed at my hair. I fought back and then some of the older kids got involved and hauled her off me.’ Her dark eyes flashed angrily.

  ‘So why did she attack you?’

  ‘She was in Pretty Things boutique in town on Saturday. I saw her stealing a top. She slipped it into her bag and then left the shop without paying. I told her she was a thief and she went mental at me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something to an assistant while you were in the shop?’

  ‘I was with my mum and gran.’

  ‘That isn’t really an explanation, Claire.’

  Claire looked down suddenly. ‘I don’t know. I should have but I didn’t. It happened very quickly.’

  It didn’t make sense. Why hadn’t Claire spoken up about it at the time? They weren’t friends. She had no reason to protect her.

  ‘But you’re sure you saw her steal it?’

  ‘Definitely. I challenged her about it yesterday.’

  ‘In front of others?’

  Claire squirmed in her seat. ‘Yes.’

  ‘In the schoolyard?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘At lunchtime?’

  She received a nod.

  ‘How many people were there approximately, Claire?’

  ‘A crowd. Twenty, maybe.’ She lowered her eyes.

  Lucy suddenly understood why Claire had kept the information to herself. She’d wanted to embarrass Savannah in front of everyone she could.

  ‘You said you called her names. What did you say to her exactly?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Come on, Claire, I’m sure you can remember. We all say things in the heat of the moment. We sometimes say things we don’t mean.’ Lucy waited, hoping the girl would say more, and she did.

  Claire squared her shoulders and said defiantly, ‘I told her she was a thieving gypsy… but it’s true. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.’

  ‘Except she wasn’t a gypsy.’

  ‘She and her mum lived with the gypsies, and Savannah’s stepfather was one. Everyone at school knew they were gypsies and she did steal. I saw her. And my mum told me Savannah’s stepdad used to steal too from sheds but the police never did anything about it. I didn’t say anything wrong.’

  ‘What else did you know about her?’

  Claire shook her head. ‘Not a lot. I didn’t have anything to do with her. Saturday was the first time I really noticed her.’

  ‘You said she spat at you.’

  ‘Yeah. It was disgusting. It went down my face. She said I’d be sorry for calling her names.’

  ‘Did she say anything else?’

  ‘No, she suddenly went ballistic and tried to yank my hair out.’

  ‘Did either of you get injured?’

  ‘It was mostly pushing, pulling and shouting. She scratched my neck though.’ Claire moved her collar to reveal a red mark.

  ‘And the fight was broken up?’

  ‘Somebody pulled her off me. I don’t know who. She shouted she’d make me sorry and walked off with Sally Gilmore and Holly Bradshaw.’

  ‘Did you see her again yesterday after that?’

  ‘No. I’m in a different year to her. I didn’t see her.’

  ‘What did you do after school?’

  ‘My mum picked me up and we went to visit my gran.’

  ‘You didn’t go out at all after that?’

  Claire shook her head. ‘No. We had tea with Gran and then we went home.’

  ‘Had you ever been involved in a fight with her before?’

  ‘It was the first time. I didn’t pay her much attention until yesterday.’

  ‘Did she get into fights with others?’

  ‘Not that I heard of.’

  ‘I understand she was called names quite often.’

  ‘If she was, I didn’t hear about it.’

  Lucy pressed on but there was little more to glean. She would take what she knew back to the station and see if it helped them.

  * * *

  Everyone was gathered again in the office bang on twelve and ready to pool information. Natalie had read through Graham’s report, which he’d summarised on the roof, and together with Ian had begun compiling a picture of Savannah’s life. She rolled up the sleeves on her white shirt and leant across her desk to address everyone.

  ‘There are a few grey areas concerning Savannah’s life. It appears contrary to what her mother told me: she was unhappy – with school and home. Lucy, what have you found out?’

  ‘That seems to be the case. I spoke to Sally and Holly and both confirmed Savannah didn’t get along with many people. Several pupils constantly tormented her with jibes and called her derogatory names. Claire Dunbar called her a thieving gypsy yesterday, a statement she felt was justified having spotted Savannah lifting a T-shirt from the boutique in town on Saturday. A fight started and was broken up by older pupils before any teachers got involved. Claire claimed Savannah spat at her and told her she’d be sorry for what she said, then stalked away. Claire didn’t know what she meant by that.

  ‘Their form teacher, Kirsty Davies, confirmed Savannah was a pupil who kept her head down. She’d also noticed that the last few weeks Savannah had become slightly more argumentative than usual but put it down to her age. It might be a coincidence but it appears Savannah’s change in attitude coincided with the arrival of Jane’s new boyfriend, who has started staying over at their house. Name of Phil.’

  Natalie cocked an angled brow. ‘Phil, eh?’

  ‘He walked in on Savannah when she was showering and she told her friends he was creepy. She also mentioned he stared at her a lot and she was uncomfortable with him about the place. Could be plain jealousy or there’s more to it.’

  ‘Track him down and interview him.’ Natalie nodded in Ian’s direction. ‘Ian?’

  Ian cleared his throat. ‘The phone company is unable to track Savannah’s mobile. It’s been switched off. Last call was made on Friday lunchtime to her mum. They’ve sent a list of text messages and calls but quite honestly there’s nothing of note on it. She only appears to have used it to stay in contact with her mum. She used Snapchat to talk to her friends but the technical department is looking into that. Nothing on it yet.

  ‘Jane Hopkins checks out in terms of what she’s told us about her past life. Her mother is dead and Jane dropped off the radar late 2015 when she went off with Lance and his family. There’s a copy of the marriage certificate – July 2016. According to Lance Hopkins’ P60, he works as a labourer. His tax returns are up to date, with the last one filed in Watfield last year. I haven’t got a location on his current whereabouts. He’s had four charges brought against him for being drunk and disorderly – one in Manchester, one in Newcastle upon Tyne and the two most recent in Watfield, last year. Their property was purchased the back end of 2016 at auction for £56,000. It was described as “in need of complete renovation”. Jane was left a legacy of £60,000 when her mother passed away in 2015. This was used to buy the house, which is in her name only, not Lance’s. Finally, there is an anomaly in her statement. She claimed to have left work soon after her usual time of three thirty and got held up in traffic. Even if she’d been held up behind a bicycle it couldn’t have taken forty-five minutes to get from Wilton’s Building Supplies on the main Ashbourne road to her house in Western Park Road. It’s only four miles away. It doesn’t add up. Either she’s
wrong about the time she left or she’s withholding information.’

  ‘We need to discuss that further with her,’ said Natalie. She glanced at Murray, who’d been standing by the door, arms across his broad chest. ‘Okay, onto the two labourers working on Jane’s garden – Murray, what do you have on them?’

  ‘Their names are Stu Oldfields and Will Layton. They’re downstairs, waiting. Both insist they didn’t see Savannah yesterday afternoon but Ian went through the statements you received from DI Graham Kilburn and found a witness, Mrs Margaret Mullens, who mentioned seeing them with Savannah and another schoolgirl, smoking outside Savannah’s house last Wednesday about five p.m. I rang her about it and asked if she’d thought to report the incident to Savannah’s mother, but she claimed it wasn’t her business to even though she was confident all parties were smoking. I’m under the impression she was afraid of confrontation and avoided the family altogether. She didn’t know much about them other than the police had been called out to the house on a couple of occasions and she saw Savannah walking to and from home now and again.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll talk to her again if we need to. Ah, here’s Mike.’

  Mike was striding purposefully towards the office, file in his hand. Murray opened the door for him.

  ‘Hi again. I thought you’d like an update. I’ll start with the negatives: we haven’t found Savannah’s school uniform, bag, mobile or indeed the star-shaped earring, missing from her lobe. That might mean the killer has them or they got lost near where she was murdered. Now onto what we do know. We’re certain she was murdered at a different location then brought to the park and positioned by the waste bin. The pathologist, Ben Hargreaves, has confirmed Savannah was strangled and that the bruising on her knuckles was most likely caused by repeatedly striking something hard. He reckons death occurred sometime between eleven o’clock last night and four or five o’clock this morning.

  ‘We’ve collected specks of what appears to be paint from broken skin on her hands and are currently examining them. It seems, at first glance, these are paint flecks attached to wood, presumably from a wooden door, box or crate, but I’ll confirm that once we’re certain. She wasn’t molested in any way, and apart from the bruising to her hands and neck, shows no other signs of struggle or harm. Ben’s examining her now and will send a report directly to you. Sorry to be brief but I must get back to the lab.’ He passed the file to Natalie, gave her a lopsided smile and left.

  Natalie faced the team once more. ‘Ian, you need to keep digging. Find Lance Hopkins. Lucy, talk to Jane Hopkins and get hold of whoever this Phil character is. Murray, you’ll help me to interview that pair you brought in. I’ll take Stu, you take Will.’

  She slapped the file onto the table. If Savannah had been killed at eleven last night, she’d been dead thirteen hours. The press would have released the story by now, headlines splashed across every newspaper, and Jane Hopkins would be caught in the media circus surrounding her daughter’s death. If she’d thought it had been difficult to settle in a new town after living with travellers, she was going to find it even tougher being the subject of people’s critical opinions, not to mention living with the guilt that she wasn’t at home when she ought to have been.

  Six

  Tuesday, 17 April – Morning

  The snake glided side to side as he performed lateral raises with the dumbbells. He’d positioned himself in front of a full-length mirror with another behind so he could observe as it moved silently, rippling along the muscles in his back as he lifted then lowered methodically and repeated the movement.

  The reptile was fed, but after such a long fast, its hunger had grown out of proportion and it was already demanding more to assuage its voracious appetite. The hunt, the kill and the final act of leaving its prey drained of life had only served to invigorate the beast; the desire to murder again, and to do so quickly, was all-consuming, yet he must be cunning. He was playing a dangerous game. Savannah Hopkins had only just been discovered and already he was planning on snatching another to feed this obsession. His eyes glittered at the prospect. He’d waited too long for this wonderful opportunity.

  He lowered the weights to the floor and flexed his pectorals. The serpent’s jaw gaped wider, its hooded eyes searching, watching and waiting. Soon. He reached for the oil and performed the familiar ritual of tipping it into one hand and rubbing gently in controlled circular movements, coating both palms with the almond essence before spreading it across the black boa constrictor, admiring the dark-grey triangle between its nose and eyes and the subtle saddle markings close to its tail. He rubbed the oil across his chest and the snake’s jaw opened wider, revealing tiny hooked teeth that could grab its prey. The boa doesn’t have fangs. It’s non-venomous and kills its prey by constriction, squeezing the circulatory system hard until blood can no longer reach the victim’s brain and it dies within seconds due to ischaemia. His pink tongue flickered across his lips. Like Savannah.

  Before long, there’d be another victim to satiate the hunger. The snake was going to strike again.

  Seven

  Tuesday, 17 April – Afternoon

  Natalie dropped onto a seat in front of the young man with shaggy, dirty-blond hair and matching shovel-shaped beard. He was tall, legs stretched right out under the desk so his boots were stuck out close to Natalie’s chair. His muscular hands with thick fingers and cracked nails were currently curled around a blue disposable lighter. This was Stu Oldfields, the twenty-four-year-old builder and labourer who was part of the Tenby House and Garden Services team assigned to work on Jane Hopkins’ house.

  He spoke immediately. ‘I told the detective last night that I didn’t see her yesterday, not before or after school.’

  ‘So I understand, but I also heard you left work early yesterday afternoon. Why was that?’

  His hand clenched and unclenched the lighter. ‘We had to pick up some supplies. The shop closed at four thirty. Early closing on Mondays.’

  ‘Where was this shop?’

  ‘In the retail park the other side of Watfield – KSC Building Supplies.’

  ‘What exactly did you have to collect?’ She asked the question casually and was interested to see him hesitate before answering.

  ‘Cement… four bags, guttering, ten lengths of three metres and… some Thistle multi-finish plaster.’ It was quite a specific answer to her question. She hadn’t asked for quantities.

  ‘What did you do after you purchased the supplies?’

  ‘We headed back to the yard.’

  ‘Which yard do you mean?’

  ‘The yard at work.’

  ‘At Tenby House and Garden Services?’

  ‘Yeah. We took the supplies back, well… I didn’t. Will did. It was almost clocking off time so he dropped me off at my place first. I live nearby in Mulberry Close.’

  ‘I expect you have a receipt to confirm what you bought and time of purchase?’

  ‘Got it on account. The boss, Noel Reeves, will have the details of what we bought. Won’t be a time on it though. It’ll have been sometime before four thirty.’

  ‘How long did it take you to get the supplies and load them onto the van then drive to the yard?’

  He scratched at his chin and glanced away for a moment. ‘Not long.’

  ‘Was there anybody else at the shop while you were there?’

  Another scratch and a ponderous wait before he said, ‘I didn’t see anyone. I wasn’t paying much attention, to be honest.’

  Natalie kept her gaze steady. ‘So, what time did you get home?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Can’t say for sure. Will dropped me off at my house and I went straight up for a shower. Then I played on my Xbox until my mum got home. I didn’t check the time.’

  He seemed ill at ease and Natalie was certain he wasn’t telling the truth.

  ‘Your mother can vouch for you being at home when she got in?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was in my room. She must have known I was there. I went
downstairs at about six thirty or so for something to eat.’

  ‘But she didn’t see you?’

  He picked up the lighter again. ‘I know what you’re suggesting but I was at home. Ask Will.’

  ‘I shall. Did you talk to Savannah much?’

  ‘Now and again. I was busy a lot of the time.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Not much. Music, films, stuff.’

  ‘You shared the same interests?’

  ‘Not really. It was just chat – banter – nothing serious. One time, I was whistling along to the radio and she said she liked the song. I was just making an effort to be nice to her. I’d ask her anything like what she was having for tea or if she’d seen Isle of Dogs. That’s what I’m like. I’m nice to the people where I work. I was nice to Jane too.’

  ‘I have a witness who saw you smoking with Savannah and another girl at Savannah’s house last Wednesday at about five p.m.’

  ‘She’s wrong.’

  Natalie’s mouth stretched into a smile. ‘I didn’t tell you it was a female witness.’

  ‘I assumed it would be a woman,’ he replied. The giveaway was his hand, now covering his mouth as he spoke.

  ‘No, you didn’t. You knew who I was referring to.’

  He dropped his hand, drummed his fingers against the desk in a light, disjointed beat. His chin jutted forwards. ‘Once. It was once. Jane had nipped out to get something and Savannah was hanging about the house with one of her mates. She came outside and asked if we fancied a smoke. She’d got a packet of cigarettes and we both took one. It was only a crafty fag at the back of her house, but some woman in her fifties walked past and stopped for a second when she saw us. Savannah hid her cigarette but we thought she’d noticed us. Savannah was worried the woman would tell her mother but I told her not to worry. I didn’t think she would. Not judging by the way she scurried off. That’s all. It was one time.’