The Dare: An absolutely gripping crime thriller

by Wyer, Carol

  Mike Sullivan waved a manila folder in her direction. ‘This is straight from the lab – the bruising and scrapes on Savannah’s knuckles were caused by repetitive blows to a hard surface, namely wood. The splinter we uncovered was oak wood painted dark grey. I think she’d been imprisoned and had been trying to get out.’

  ‘Like bashing against a locked door?’ Ian offered.

  Lucy’s heavy eyebrows lifted to meet her blue-black fringe. ‘Or a coffin-like box.’

  ‘Could be either but we didn’t find any other fragments on her clothing, and if she’d been lying down in a box, I’m pretty sure we’d have found something elsewhere. Her clothes were clean apart from some very light grass staining where she’d been positioned. Ben’s emailing his report over any minute. He’s certain she was strangled and then moved to the park and placed where we found her.’

  ‘By the waste bin. Like she was rubbish,’ said Lucy, softly.

  Natalie rested her fingers on her chin and digested the news. ‘The park is significant. It has to be. The wastepaper bin… the fact her home was only the other side of the park. There was a similar case in Manchester a few years ago. A fourteen-year-old girl was strangled and her body left by rubbish bags to the rear of her parent’s restaurant. Nobody was charged with her murder. Ian, can you get information on that investigation? I’d like a list of suspects and full details on it.’

  Mike spoke again. ‘Sorry to report we have collected a vast amount of evidence which we’re sifting through, and so far, none of it appears to be connected to Savannah’s death. It’s a huge park and a popular one, so we’re having trouble working out what might be relevant and what isn’t. We’ve got no trace on her mobile. We suspect the SIM card has been removed. The mobile provider has given us a list of calls and text messages. Details are in the file but she rarely made actual phone calls, and when she did they were reserved for her mother. The majority of her conversations were via Snapchat and mostly to her two close friends – Sally and Holly. Nothing sinister in them and no suggestion she intended running away. She was a regular user, even during the day but especially evenings. However, the last time she used that application was Sunday evening at nine, when she and Sally talked about what they’d done all day. Again, nothing in their conversation for us to go on. She didn’t use her phone at all on Monday, the day she disappeared.’

  ‘I was under the impression teenagers were never off their phones,’ said Murray.

  Ian tapped at his screen and spoke. ‘I’ve been hunting for other online presence but she doesn’t even have a Facebook page. She has an Instagram account and that contains a lot of photos of make-up and clothes. Nothing else. She seemed to have been quite the loner.’ He spun the screen towards Natalie so she could see the pictures.

  Mike also glanced at them then said, ‘I’ll leave the report with you to fathom out why she didn’t use her phone yesterday and who she was meeting. I’ll be in the lab if you need me.’

  ‘Cheers, Mike,’ said Natalie, taking the folder from him and browsing through it. Savannah was certainly a strange girl. What thirteen-year-old had only two friends and hardly ever used her mobile for communication? Leigh was almost always talking to her friends and sharing photos. Natalie had had the conversation with her several times about being careful with whom she shared information.

  Mike left and there was a ping, signalling the arrival of an email. Murray spoke up. ‘The pathology report is in.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Natalie asked.

  Murray’s eyes flicked over the document. ‘In summary, there was bruising and ligature marks in connection with manual strangulation – soft tissue thinning due to fluids being driven out by mechanical compression, fractures of the thyroid and hyoid, vocal cord and lymph node haemorrhage, salivary gland congestion and also congestion haemorrhage in the conjunctivae. There are no defence marks and the only other bruising is on her hands.’

  Lucy heaved a sigh. ‘Sounds like Savannah was overpowered and strangled with force.’

  Natalie stared into space for a moment. ‘She was going to meet somebody. I’m sure of it. Why else would she change from school clothes into a new outfit?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘That sounds logical. Forensics haven’t found her school clothes or bag.’

  Ian piped up. ‘The killer might still have them. Some sort of trophy.’

  Natalie agreed it was possible. She glanced at the office clock. It was just past six o’clock and she hadn’t yet rung her husband to let him know she’d got held up. ‘Lucy, I think it’s time to talk to Phil Howitt again.’

  ‘I’ll bring him in.’

  Natalie read through Ben’s report on Savannah’s death then stood up sharply. She ought not to leave it any later. David was used to her dreadful hours but she couldn’t leave him in the dark as to what she was doing. She went upstairs and watched the evening traffic below, its continuous rumble a soundtrack that drifted to the roof terrace, where she stood with her mobile to her ear. She’d done a lot of thinking on this roof. It was where the smokers came to get their fix and where others came for a break from stressed offices. It was also where she and Mike would occasionally meet for a more intimate chat, during which they’d discuss their families.

  Recently, they hadn’t managed to bump into each other here. She knew the reason why: she’d deliberately avoided the roof. She was aware of the times he was likely to be there, dragging on a cigarette, yet she hadn’t climbed the stairs to chinwag in case she revealed the true extent of her concern over David. It was difficult enough at times being mere colleagues, having shared a bed together, and although both had put the affair behind them, at times, the attraction was still there. Mike was a good-looking man and, at the moment, she was vulnerable. His charms might easily sway her so it was better to avoid him. She was so lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear David speaking:

  ‘Hi gorgeous. Everything okay?’ His voice was cheerful. The television was on in the background.

  ‘Hey. Look, I’m sorry, I’m going to be held up. I’m tied up with a murder investigation.’

  ‘Shit! That’s rough. Don’t worry about us though. I bought a takeaway for the kids and I’ve got a bottle of wine on the go.’

  ‘Wine? You celebrating?’

  ‘Could say that. The news will wait until you get home. I’ll save the wine – sounds like you might need a glass or two.’

  ‘Did the conference go well?’

  ‘Superbly. I’ll fill you in about it when I see you. I’ll wait up until eleven and then I might turn in.’

  ‘Are the children there?’

  ‘In their rooms. They wolfed down the takeaway and disappeared before they had to clear up.’ He laughed.

  ‘I’ll try and get back before eleven. I’ve a suspect to interview and then I’m sending everyone home.’

  ‘Okay. Good luck. Love you, Nat.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  Her response had come out easily. It was nice – a relief – to hear David so upbeat. The last few weeks had been so full of tension between them it had taken a toll on her mentally. It was good to get back to being the old David and Natalie. She hoped his news was about work and he’d secured some new contracts. They could do with the income but David also needed a boost to his self-esteem.

  She headed for the door, and as she did so, Mike walked outside, unlit cigarette between his lips. He patted his jacket pocket for his lighter, removed the cigarette and spoke. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

  ‘I had to ring David.’

  He smiled. ‘I’ve not seen him for over a month. Work’s been a nightmare and every spare minute I spend with Thea. It’s about time he and I went out for a drink.’ She drew to a halt and opened her mouth to say something and his eyebrows lifted in response. ‘He is okay, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. Busy. I think he’s got some new clients. I have to go. Suspect to interview.’

  He studied her. ‘You look tired. You sure everything’s okay?’

 
‘It’s fine. Work-life and home-life tend to pull you in all directions. I had to get the kids up this morning and drop them off at school and it was pretty damn stressful. I’m glad David usually does it. I wanted to scream at the parking officials. They made us queue up and wait for ages to drop off inside the bloody designated drop-off zone.’

  Mike laughed and picked a tiny piece of tobacco from his lips. ‘I have all that fun to come. Any advice?’

  ‘Buy a massive four-by-four so you can mow the other parents out of the way or you’ll never get to work on time.’ She gave him a smile and he held her gaze for a second, then she gave a brief nod, spun on her heels and took the stairs again. It was better for both of them if she didn’t engage in too much chit-chat with Mike Sullivan.

  Phil Howitt was a broken man. Tears stained his cheeks, and as his head moved pendulously from side to side, they trickled and plopped onto the table.

  ‘Please, please,’ he urged.

  His lawyer sat in silence beside him, keeping his counsel.

  Natalie sat back in her chair and gazed coolly at Phil, unaffected by his sudden outburst.

  ‘I don’t need to spell this out for you. You have illegal images on your laptop that are not only disturbing but raise certain questions. You have two children of your own, Mr Howitt, and you were spending time at your girlfriend’s house – a woman with a teenage daughter who voiced anxieties about you to her friends.’

  He turned towards his lawyer. ‘I went through that with DS Carmichael. I didn’t touch Savannah. I was always nice to her. Ask Jane. There was one occasion when I accidentally walked into the bathroom while she was showering and I retreated immediately.’

  Lucy, who was next to Natalie, spoke up. ‘But Savannah said otherwise. You know that. I told you that when we last spoke.’

  ‘She was lying!’ His voice rose to crescendo and his lawyer lowered his gaze.

  Natalie interrupted his outburst. ‘Calm down, sir. We have no way of knowing what happened in the bathroom given Savannah is dead. You freely admitted you were within the vicinity of her home last night at about the time we believe she was murdered.’

  ‘I had nothing… nothing to do with her murder. I was going to see Jane. She’d been messaging me and finally I decided to go and comfort her. That’s what happened. Please. Believe me. I swear on my children’s lives I didn’t kill her.’

  Natalie winced at his statement. ‘I’d like access to your vehicle to have it checked out.’

  His mouth flapped open. ‘No. This is all wrong. You’ll look for proof she was in my car and you’ll find it and charge me. Savannah was in my car but only because I gave her a lift to school, last Thursday, after I’d stayed the night with Jane. It was pouring down with rain so I offered her a lift even though the school wasn’t too far away. She accepted but asked me to drop her off just before the school, so I let her out at School Lane.’

  ‘Why did she want to get out there?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to see her with me. I really don’t know. I didn’t ask. Look, I was just being kind. Don’t read anything more into it. What’s going to happen to me?’

  ‘We need to establish you aren’t responsible for Savannah’s death.’

  ‘I’m not. What about the photos?’

  ‘We’ll be passing all information to the child pornography team that handles such matters and who will undoubtedly charge you.’ Natalie looked at the lawyer as she spoke to include him. He gave a quick nod.

  ‘But it was only a few pictures. I didn’t download them myself. They came in an attachment from a friend. I wasn’t interested in them.’

  ‘Then why did you keep them on your computer in encrypted files?’ Lucy said, quickly.

  ‘I forgot they were there.’ His words were feeble and his bottom lip trembled.

  Natalie was convinced he was lying. This wasn’t what she was investigating. She needed to establish if he was responsible for Savannah’s death.

  He suddenly wailed, ‘Oh God. What am I going to tell my wife? The children?’ The tears fell again.

  Natalie was becoming irritated and sidestepped the question. ‘I can’t answer that for you. My sole mission here is to determine if you had any involvement in Savannah’s disappearance and subsequent death.’

  ‘No, no, no! I had nothing to do with it. Please.’ The sobs became louder and Natalie terminated the interview.

  Natalie marched back to the office alone. A sense of end-of-the-day had fallen over HQ with much of the earlier hustle and bustle now over. A small cough came from downstairs and echoed around the empty foyer. There was little more they could accomplish today and they all needed a break. Natalie was feeling jaded and she still had to swap hats and become the wife and mother she was, once more. The multicoloured settee that stood outside their glass-fronted office was empty as usual, and beyond it she made out the hunched forms of Murray and Ian, both working at desks. She slid her pass through the card reader that opened the door and strode inside.

  ‘Phil Howitt claims he knows nothing at all about Savannah’s disappearance, and if I had to lay a bet on it, I’d probably say he isn’t responsible. He’s a spineless bastard but I don’t think he’s a killer. Anything here?’

  ‘I’ve tried to contact Harriet Long and her mother again but I’m only getting answering services. Want me to run past their house?’ Murray asked.

  ‘Leave it until morning. She’ll probably cover for Stu even if he’s fibbing about his whereabouts. You reckon he was with her?’

  Murray nodded. ‘Yeah. I’d say he was dead scared I was going to charge him for having sex with a minor, rather than anything else.’

  ‘Best to make sure. We’ll try her house first thing when her mum’s home too. Ian, how are you getting on?’

  ‘I sent a request to Manchester regarding the strangled teenager as you asked. I’m waiting to hear back. Still trawling through footage and not got anything on Lance Hopkins, although I’ve put out an alert on his family and asked for police forces to let me know if the travellers are on their patch. He could well be with them.’

  ‘Good. Cheers, both. Let’s wrap it up for tonight, then. We’ll get back onto it first thing.’ She picked up her bag and wished them both a good night.

  As she marched across the car park, a light rain began to fall and she thought about Savannah accepting a lift from Phil Howitt even though she’d told her friends he was creepy. Could he be responsible? She threw her bag into her car and breathed deeply. She was tired – too tired to make a good call. She’d believed Phil to be in a state because of the discovery of child pornography on his laptop, but what if he was deliberately making more of that to disguise what had really happened? Natalie put the car into gear and drove away. She needed some sleep – a glass of wine and some sleep.

  Eleven

  Then

  They call it the wasteland, a vast, undulating area where children race each other on bicycles, speeding down steep gradients of the hillocks like daredevils, or wander about in small gangs, idly exploring or merely lurking until it’s time to return home. The bigger kids monopolise the far side of the wasteland, huddled in groups, smoking cigarettes, taking drugs or drinking illegal concoctions either stolen from shops or nicked from their parents’ hidden stashes. That particular area is taboo to the younger children. Anyone under the age of thirteen is restricted to the greener area completely overlooked by the eleven huge apartment blocks.

  He loves the wasteland – it’s a secret garden of delights. One time, he skipped off school and stole a BMX bike from the corridor in one of the blocks of flats. He rode flat out, flying over the humps, pretending the bike was a horse, champing at its bit, eager to race, before dumping it in a marshy part of the wasteland and meandering back home, exhilarated by the rush of speed.

  Another time, in the lengthier grass, he discovered a large, brown toad. He marvelled at how composed the creature seemed, even when he tired of its repetitive croaks and prodded it
to make it leap, and then, bored of the game, flattened it with a large, grey stone. The toad had made no effort to escape, accepting its fate in the knowledge it had met its match. A warm sensation similar to the one he experienced that day on seeing the crushed animal, and knowing he was the one to extinguish its life, floods his veins, making him smile and his toes curl in delight. He hunted for more toads after that but none had appeared, so he turned his attention to the other creatures on the wasteland: the unfortunate ginger and white kitten that readily approached him, encouraged by his outstretched hand and soft, coaxing noises. It came up to him, trustingly, allowing him to stroke it, winding its silken tail around his bare calves. It hadn’t expected the rock to smash against its skull. Even now he’s still astounded at how tiny the cat’s head had been and how easily it had crushed. It had been like tapping the top of his boiled egg.

  After school, the wasteland becomes home to the teenagers and children from the flats, huge grey monstrosities built in the 1960s to deal with overcrowding. He lives on the third floor, in the block closest to the wasteland, along with his mother and baby brother. From his bedroom window he can see almost all of it, from the long, grassed area, where some kids make out with each other, to the other side, the part protected by high fencing – a dumping ground – that really fascinates him. From his vantage point nothing escapes him, and recently he’s noticed figures slide under the wire netting and head into the distance to explore the goods that have been deposited there. His mother has forbidden him from going to that part of the wasteland, claiming it’s too dangerous, but her words only serve to fuel his desire to join the older kids who return with treasures from their sorties – broken metal toasters, huge bits of wood, rubber tyres and other delights that he wants to check out.

  He is a loner, a tiny boy for his age, who – with his ghostly white face and skinny arms – presents no threat to any of the other children, who either ignore him as if he’s invisible or snigger at his high-pitched voice and sticklike limbs.