THE MURDERER'S SON a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Joy Ellis

  ‘The wrong woman, but still a killer.’ It was Skye’s turn to sigh. ‘What a mess.’

  Marie nodded, then said, ‘Are you comfortable being out with Mark tonight? We do have an awful lot of officers out there, searching really hard.’

  ‘I’m fine with it. As I said, doing nothing and not knowing where Dan’s gone is driving me mad.’

  ‘Skye, if you should find him, promise me that you won’t go near him. I know it might sound silly, but ring us immediately. I’m not saying that you are in any danger, but we’ve lost him once, and we can’t have that happen again. You need professionals with you to bring him in safely. Okay?’

  ‘I understand. Although nothing will ever convince me that Dan would hurt me.’

  Marie gave her a worried smile. ‘I hope you’re right.’

  * * *

  Daniel sat in the darkness and listened to the silence.

  For the first time in weeks his mind was not bombarding him with lies or confusing him with muddled thoughts. He felt completely clear-headed and very, very peaceful.

  The only words that he heard now were Guy Preston’s. They had finally stilled the inner turmoil. He knew that he had done the right thing by going to see the psychologist, not just get his wound attended to, but for what Preston had said.

  He smiled a little ruefully. He was sorry that he’d had to push the doctor down that bank, but he’d known that it wouldn’t hurt him. It had been a gentle gradient and the ground was soft after the early rain. He was sure that the only thing damaged was the man’s dignity, and maybe his expensive suede shoes.

  It hadn’t been premeditated. It had been completely spontaneous, triggered by what the doctor had told him about his condition. He just needed some time to himself before he went to the police. Now he knew the truth and a weight had lifted from him.

  Daniel closed his eyes and felt the welcome darkness seep in. He had somewhere to go and someone special to see, but it could wait a little longer. For a few minutes he would just enjoy the peace, the darkness and the silence.

  The corners of his lips lifted into a slow smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lisa Hurley sat in the driver’s seat of her car and watched the small house in Tavernier’s Court. It was certainly a pleasant location. The warm red brick of the old railway buildings drew you back to a time when you might see billowy clouds of steam and hear the stokers shovelling coal.

  But Lisa felt far from mellow. Her back was straight, her shoulders tight as titanium rods, and her eyes were sore from staring into the darkness.

  The night was cool with a chilly wind coming in off the North Sea and her windscreen was soon speckled with fine misty rain.

  She had been sitting there for almost an hour. He would come, she was certain of it. And she knew it would be soon. She glanced down at her watch, then stretched and took from her pocket the key fob with the silver moon.

  Lisa stepped from the car and locked it. Then she walked away from the house until she reached a narrow walkway that led to the garages. Skye’s little Kia was still parked in her numbered space close to the property. Skye herself had left some time earlier, in a squad car driven by a police officer.

  After a careful look round, Lisa stepped down the concrete path. Before she reached the garage block, she veered off onto another path that ran along the back gardens. She counted the houses, then unlatched the correct gate and entered the little patio garden. Easy to maintain, she thought as she walked quietly towards the darkened house. Lots of pretty stone paving, coloured gravel and neatly-walled raised beds, just right for a hard-working career girl like Skye. Lisa almost whispered the name out loud, and she shivered as she did.

  The key turned easily in the lock, and she reminded herself not to jump if Daniel’s cat suddenly wound itself around her legs. It wouldn’t do to scream and draw attention to the house. Not yet.

  Lisa closed the door and placed the key into the inside lock, but left it unturned, just as she had seen Skye do. Locking doors was never a priority when you came from a rural background.

  On her earlier visit Lisa had carefully taken note of the layout of the small property, and now she was able to move easily through it in the dark. As she had expected, as soon as she entered the lounge, the cat stalked towards her, yowling as it sashayed across the floor. ‘Hello, you,’ she whispered, then stooped, gathering the animal up and clasping it tightly to her. ‘Sorry, chum, but we can’t have you roaming free. A feline welcoming committee is the last thing I need.’ She pushed the cat into the dining room and closed the door.

  She then hurried up the stairs and paused on the landing. Through the long window a street light gave enough brightness for her to see her wristwatch clearly. She gritted her teeth. It was time.

  She moved into Skye’s bedroom and pulled the curtains, taking care to see that they met tightly. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she switched on the bedside lamp.

  From there, she hurried to the en suite shower room, and after ensuring that the blind was pulled right down, put that light on as well. The bright cluster of tiny halogen ceiling lamps made her squint. Then she leaned into the shower cubicle and switched on Skye’s waterproof radio, a plastic piece of fun, shaped like a dolphin. Tinny music echoed round the small room as Lisa turned on the water. After carefully placing a thick towelling bath sheet close to the door of the shower, she stepped back into the bedroom and pulled the door half closed. In just a few steps she was back out on the landing and moving quickly down to the guest room. It was diagonally opposite Skye’s, and if she left it ajar, Lisa could just make out a view of the staircase and Skye’s slightly open door.

  Okay, she thought, as she eased herself back against the wall to begin her vigil. Let’s see what’s really in that twisted mind of yours, shall we?

  She knew that there would be soft footsteps padding up the stairs. She had been certain that they would pause outside the door, and someone would grip the handle and move stealthily inside the room. But what she hadn’t planned for was the fact that the sheer terror of hearing them would turn her blood to water. She had not counted on heart-juddering, gut-loosening fear.

  It was only the knowledge of what he might be there for that steadied her tremors and rallied her courage. This would be positive proof that Skye really was in as much danger as Lisa believed she was.

  She tried to remain detached. She pretended that she was doing nothing more than watching a scary movie.

  But Lisa was totally unprepared for who she saw walking up Skye’s stairs.

  Through the narrow gap, Lisa saw a tall figure moving towards the landing. She had expected a man in jeans, trainers and a hooded sweater. Instead, this figure was wearing a familiar green V-neck tunic and matching trousers. His hair was covered by a scrub tie cap and his face was obscured by a surgical mask.

  As her confused brain tried to process this unexpected sight, Lisa suddenly noticed that whoever this was held a wicked-looking long-bladed knife in his gloved right hand.

  What had she got herself into?

  After Skye had told her that Daniel was still missing, Lisa had been afraid that her friend could be in danger from him if one of his strange fugue states took him over. But she couldn’t possibly have imagined what was happening now.

  As the man slipped into the bedroom, Lisa knew she had to act fast. She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket. She had switched it off when she entered Skye’s flat, and it played an infuriating little tune when you activated it. But she had no choice. She jabbed her finger on the power button and prayed that the noise from the shower would cover it up.

  Lisa gave him enough time to get right into the bedroom, then she tiptoed out of the guest room, and after taking a deep breath, crept towards the open door.

  If she could just get downstairs and outside, she could lock him in, giving her enough time to dial 999 and either hide, or make it to her car.

  She glanced into Skye’s room and saw him standing with his bac
k to her, outside the shower room. His head was tilted as he listened, and she saw his fingers tense and tighten on the handle of the knife. She only had seconds before he realised that Skye was not there, and with a silent prayer on her lips, Lisa hurled herself past the doorway and down the stairs. As she ran, she hit 999 on her phone. It was the best she could do.

  Halfway across the lounge, she knew she wasn’t going to make it.

  Behind her the soft-soled shoes slapped on the stair treads. They were travelling much faster than she had expected. For a moment she felt as though she were in one of those nightmares where you try to get away from something but are unable to move. She made it to the kitchen, hearing a distant voice asking which emergency service she required. ‘Police!’ she screamed. ‘Tavernie—’

  The phone flew from her grasp and she heard the crunch as he ground it into the floor . . .

  It was an odd feeling. Not pain, well, not immediately. Just cold. She thought of the word “rending” as it cut through the flesh across her neck and shoulder.

  This had been meant for Skye.

  Utter white-hot rage filled Lisa Hurley, and with a superhuman effort she spun round and threw herself at her attacker.

  For a moment he was taken by surprise and reeled backwards, almost losing his grip on the knife. Lisa grabbed at the nearest thing available, which happened to be a cast-iron skillet, sitting on the hob. She swung it with all her failing strength.

  A loud grunt told her that she had caught him a glancing blow, and she prayed that it would be enough to allow her to get out of the house. But then the pain of her own injury hit her. Searing, burning pain blasted through her shoulder, and she crawled towards the back door.

  Dragging it open, she let out a howl of agony and desperation. Her car seemed as far away as the North Pole and a sickening wave of dizziness told her that she would not remain conscious for long. The second stab of the bloodied blade caught her somewhere in the back of her ribcage.

  The last thing that Lisa Hurley saw before darkness carried her away was the retreating green-clad figure running across the garden and disappearing through the gate and into the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘Knife attack in Tavernier Court, guv!’ Charlie almost fell over his own feet as he rushed around the desks in the CID room. ‘It’s Skye Wynyard’s home.’

  Jackman jumped up from his perch on the edge of Marie’s desk. ‘Skye’s place? But isn’t she here with us?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She’s downstairs in the foyer waiting for her lift to arrive. But it’s not Skye, sir. It’s an older woman, name of Lisa Hurley. She had a Saltern hospital ID card on her.’

  ‘That bloody hospital again!’ Marie let out a curse as she grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘Is she badly injured?’

  ‘She’s being taken to ITU, sir. Sergeant Masters thought you would want to attend.’

  ‘Dead right I do.’ Jackman pulled his car keys from his pocket. ‘Charlie, make sure that Skye Wynyard stays put. No wandering the streets looking for Daniel and she’s to tell whoever was giving her a lift to go home, understand? I want her here.’ His eyes swung to Marie. ‘Let’s go.’

  As they screamed into the hospital car park, a trolley surrounded by paramedics was being pulled from the back of an ambulance. Hurrying after the group, Marie tried to pick up what they were saying. Amidst the medical jargon, she understood that their patient was still alive.

  ‘Will she make it?’ Jackman called out, flashing his warrant card at one of the doctors.

  The doctor didn’t take his eyes off Lisa as he merely said, ‘We’re trying.’ Then he called out, ‘Resus! Now!’

  Jackman and Marie watched through an open doorway. The team worked frantically, until someone said, ‘She’s stable.’

  ‘Good work everyone. Is theatre ready to take her?’

  ‘Five minutes, sir.’

  ‘Excellent.’ The doctor peeled off his gloves and blood-soaked apron and threw them into a yellow bin. Eyebrows raised, he walked over to Jackman and Marie. ‘Close call. She needs surgery on both sites. The shoulder and neck injury is the shallowest, we think it’s mainly soft tissue damage, but the second stab wound is much deeper and gave us a bit of a scare.’ He pushed his dark hair back from his forehead. ‘The knife managed to penetrate the deep muscle layer of the back, slip through the ribcage, and lacerate one of the lower bronco-pulmonary segments of her right lung. Hopefully the surgeons can remove the damaged part without adversely affecting the other segments.’ He took a deep breath. ‘She also has bleeding into the cavity below the lung.’ He pointed to the base of his own ribcage by way of explanation. ‘Here. It’s what’s called the pleural recess. It’s the space the lung expands into during inspiration.’

  ‘But she’ll survive?’ asked Jackman urgently.

  ‘We have every reason to believe that she will.’ He paused. ‘Unless there is more internal damage than we could see.’

  ‘Can we talk to her, Doctor? Is she conscious?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Inspector. You’ll have to wait until she’s out of theatre.’

  Jackman let out low groan of exasperation. ‘Just so long as everyone is aware that this was attempted murder, and we think she will have seen her attacker. It’s vital we speak to her as soon as we can. Do you understand, Doctor?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘We’ll have officers here around the clock. I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience, but that’s the way it is.’ His face darkened. ‘The last time our presence was required in this hospital there was considerable bad feeling against our officers. Some of the nurses went out of their way to obstruct them. I sincerely hope that we won’t meet that kind of attitude again.’

  ‘I was informed about that.’ The doctor looked embarrassed. ‘I apologise. I assure you that this time you’ll receive all the assistance you need. Serious warnings have been issued, Inspector. It won’t happen again.’

  They stood back as Lisa Hurley, festooned with drips, drains and an assortment of monitors, was made ready for theatre.

  Marie looked at her white face and wondered what on earth she had been doing at Skye Wynyard’s home, and how she had come to be stabbed so viciously.

  ‘You will need this.’ The doctor handed her a neck chain with a badge and pass on it. ‘She’s one of ours, Sergeant. This is her identification. She’s the administrative head of the occupational therapy department.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘It’s tough when you have to work on a colleague. Affects us all.’

  Marie nodded. It was the same when a fellow officer was injured. ‘So she is Skye’s boss.’ She looked at Jackman. ‘Curiouser and curiouser.’

  ‘Skye.’ It was little more than a sigh, but everyone turned to look at the woman on the bed.

  ‘Just relax, Lisa. We’ve got you safe now. You’re on the way to theatre. You’re going to be fine.’ The doctor held her hand.

  ‘Skye? Where is Skye?’

  Marie and Jackman moved to her bedside. ‘We are the police, Lisa. And Skye’s okay. We have her safely at the police station.’

  ‘Keep her there! He was trying to kill her, only he found me . . .’ The voice began to fade.

  ‘Who was it, Lisa? Who hurt you?’ Jackman said.

  ‘Take care of Skye. Take ca . . .’

  Marie leaned closer. What were those last three words? Could she have heard correctly? ‘Hang on in there, Lisa. And don’t worry about Skye. She’s safe.’

  The bed was rushed away with its entourage of attendants.

  Jackman and Marie turned to go. ‘What did she say?’ asked Jackman.

  Marie frowned. ‘I’m not sure. It doesn’t make too much sense, but I’ll tell you what I think when we’re outside. If I’m right, I don’t think this is the kind of news that Lisa would want spread around the hospital.’

  Jackman nodded. ‘Then wait till we get to the car. Right now I need to organise a round-the-clock watch on Lisa Hurley, then we have to get back to the s
tation. Forensics are going to have to go over that house in Tavernier Court with a fine-toothed comb. If it’s the same killer, then he wasn’t allowed to finish the job, so ten to one he’ll have left trace evidence.’

  While Jackman was making his calls, Marie took the opportunity to ring Charlie and ask him how Skye was.

  Charlie’s voice was hesitant. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of the boss, Sarge. But his phone has been tied up and yours was switched off. Skye had gone by the time I got down to reception. Daniel’s friend must have already collected her.’

  ‘Oh shit! Listen, Charlie. Lisa Hurley was not the intended victim of that knife attack, Skye Wynyard was.’

  ‘Hell! Well, I’ve already asked uniform to put out an “all cars,” Sarge. We need to notify her of what has happened at her house before she walks in on a major crime scene.’

  ‘Isn’t she answering her mobile?’

  ‘No, Sarge. It’s switched off.’

  ‘So her voicemail won’t be activated, damn.’ She thought for a second or two. ‘Try a text. She’ll pick it up when she switches her phone back on. Then go and tell uniform that finding her is now a priority. Someone is out there with a sharp knife and he is hunting for Skye. Got it?’ She thought for a moment. ‘What about this friend of hers, this Mark Dunand? Do we have a mobile number for him?’

  ‘I know we have his business number, Sarge, but I’m not sure about a mobile. I’ll update uniform about the girl, then check it out.’

  As Charlie hung up, Marie looked anxiously at Jackman. ‘So much for promising Lisa that Skye was safe.’

  Jackman closed his phone and the colour drained from his face. ‘Please don’t tell me she’s left the station?’

  Marie nodded grimly. ‘Could this get any worse?’

  ‘Not much.’

  As they hurried across the car park, he asked, ‘What was it that Lisa said?’

  ‘I think . . ,’ said Marie slowly, ‘I think she said, “Take care of my daughter.”’