by Sarah Flint
She considered fighting him but knew instantly that he would win. Her brain seemed to be scrambled. Fight or flight kept running through her mind, but neither was a viable option. Her job was discussion, debate, manipulation even, and it was the only way that she could win. She needed to use her skills. They would be the only way to get out of this alive.
He seemed to sense her reluctance and his expression darkened.
‘Tell Brad you’re happy to come with him,’ he instructed, stepping towards her and taking her by the arm roughly. ‘You’re not lying to me are you Annabel? Tell Brad!’
‘I’m happy to come with you, Brad.’ She did what she was told, walking with him out to her car and climbing in the passenger seat. She heard the locks go on as he slid into the driver’s seat next to her. There was no escape, at least for the time being.
Chapter 34
She was fucking dead. Another one! He couldn’t believe it. What was it with these women that they just seemed to give up without a fight? Kill their favourite and they don’t fight for their other child. Is that how it was?
Helena had given up. There was no reason. She still had water; she hadn’t been there long enough really to starve to death; she had just chosen to die. True, she was getting more emaciated and her face was caked in dirt and insect excrement, but that was no excuse to give up. He stamped down on her face in anger. The bitch, the cheating bitch. He hated her.
Mummy, why did you die so easily too. You shouldn’t have swallowed those pills I gave you. You didn’t have to. You could have refused.
He slammed the boarding down, blocking the vision of Helena and Daisy away. He didn’t want to see Helena, especially her, ever again. She was a bitch. She too had denied him his chance to teach her a proper lesson.
Mummy, Mummy. You were a bitch too. You couldn’t even write me a letter telling me you loved me. You couldn’t even pretend for even a few minutes of my life. You fucking bitch. You fucking, fucking bitch.
He wrenched the padlock off. He didn’t need it for this one now. He would use it for the next one. He would need to get digging again soon, maybe even straight away. He could feel the anger rising up from his belly. It was getting uncontrollable. He was energized, animated, invigorated. He liked it, the urge, the desperate need; he loved the planning and he loved the fact that they were no closer to catching him.
He’d watched their pointless appeal on Crimewatch. They were grasping at straws, clueless. He was too good; too fucking good. He grinned to himself at the thought of the six he had surrounding him now. The execution of each individual plan had been perfect, the way that everything had fallen into place, but Helena had now dis-respected him, just like Julie had, just like the others. They had died when they, not he, had chosen. Why did women not respect him? The bitches! Not even his own mother had respected him.
Mummy, Mummy. What was wrong with me? I loved you. Why did you love Tommy more? Why? Why? Why was I never good enough? Tell me, you bitch. Tell me, you fucking bitch. I hate you!
He would do it now. He would dig another pit, then another, then another. They would never get him because he was too clever for them. He might not have been the best little boy then but he was the best man now. He ran back to his car and pulled the shovel and fork from the boot, jogging back quickly. He had so much fucking energy; so much anger, rage, fury.
Before he started, he removed the water tank and tubing. He could use this for the next one, so it would be ready straight away. He yanked the bedding out from around Helena, watching as her body spun round and landed face down in the dirt. Then he pulled the boarding away too and shovelled the spare earth over their bodies, finally covering their grave with leaves and foliage; camouflaging it to the naked eye.
Moving a short distance away, he started the next one, working hard and fast, shovelling the earth from the hole into a pile. He stood back when he’d finished admiring his handiwork. It wasn’t quite so perfect around the edges as the others had been, but it was good enough. He got down inside it, lying in the dirt and earth, and pulled the boarding over him, allowing the smell of the woodland to seep up his nostrils as he always liked to do. He let his fingers run through the soil, picking some up between his fingers and bringing it to his nose so he could inhale the earthy scent further. It was fucking good, so fucking good. He needed to get his next subjects as soon as he could, to fill the pit with living, breathing people for his experiments. He knew who the next ones would be already. He’d been waiting and watching and listening.
And then he remembered Dana and Gemma, captive just a few metres from where he lay now, waiting for him to visit, waiting for him to decide their destiny. His pulse quickened at the thought. They were still so new and virginal and they were desperate for him to return, to free them; but he wouldn’t be doing that. No, he would never let them go. They were his to do with what he wanted until death. And he wanted them badly now. This time she would do what he wanted and die when he wanted. This time it would be right.
He climbed back out and covered over the new pit with the boarding, pushing the leaves with his feet until the woodland carpet was smooth. His pulse was quickening already at the thought of Dana Latchmere, the Dana Latchmere, exquisite and demure, an excellent prize, and her spoilt brat of a daughter. It seemed that Justin Latchmere’s recent behaviour had made Dana tar her own son, Aiden with the same brush. Like father, like son? She was lavishing all her affections and her money on her daughter, but poor Aiden! What of him? Punished for the sins of the father. It had made him boil with rage to hear the rumours, however true or untrue. Just the fact that the stories were being mooted was enough for him to know there would be some truth behind them. Dana needed to be punished and now he would start the punishment.
Dana would want him, just as his mummy had wanted him, and he would oblige and Gemma would see how happy he made her, again and again.
He was at the side of their pit now. He undid the padlock and pulled open the doors, watching with a smirk as the two females inside screwed up their faces against the light. Dana still looked demure even though her cheeks had smears of dirt across them and her hair lay flat against her forehead. And he wanted her now. He wanted her to love him just as his mummy had wanted him to love her and touch her and make her smile and groan with pleasure.
He climbed down into the pit. Gemma was wide-eyed with fear but he didn’t want her, not yet: he just wanted Dana. He peeled back the bedding and undid her jacket. The top that she was wearing was delicate and slightly see-through. He ripped it open, exposing her flesh, burying his head against her stomach, her neck, her breasts. He needed her now and she needed him; he could feel it. But did she love him? He didn’t know as yet. He didn’t really care though at that moment as he felt the attraction rising in him.
Mummy, mummy, I love you really. You know I love you. But I still don’t understand why you didn’t love me. Mummy, mummy, love me. Please love me. Love me! Fucking love me.
Chapter 35
All the phones were going to answerphone or ringing out and Miss Saunders didn’t quite know what to do. Jasmin and Jake Leigh-Matthews were still awaiting collection, playing on gym equipment in the school hall. It was highly unusual. Ms Leigh-Matthews was always prompt to collect them, or if she was unable to, her replacement would be arranged and waiting at the school gates. She had never failed to arrive before. On weekdays, on the very rare occasions that she had been held at court and was running late from her busy schedule, she had always, always phoned to warn them and they had held on to the children for as long as it took. On Saturdays she was never late.
Today, however, over an hour after school had finished there was still no sign of either parent or a stand-in, no phone calls from Ms Leigh-Matthews and, to make matters worse, neither parent was answering their phone. She was the last one there and the caretaker was waiting to lock up and go home. Miss Saunders didn’t know quite what to do!
She dialled 999. The kids seemed quite happy still. She made sur
e their belongings were all ready and sat and watched them for a while. They were totally unaware of the problem and didn’t seem in any way upset. Miss Saunders had carefully questioned them earlier about any potential problems but, listening to their answers and watching them playing together now, she was quite satisfied that there weren’t any problems at home with their parents that they were aware of.
It wasn’t long before the police car arrived and she explained the situation to the female police officer and her male companion who were first on scene. She watched as the children were led away, climbing excitedly into the marked police car and waving happily towards her as they were driven from her sight.
Slowly she gathered her things together and walked from the building. Something was badly wrong.
*
PC Karen Baxter was tired. It was nearing the end of a very long shift and she just wanted to be finished. The day had started at 7 a.m. standing at a crime scene, then progressed through various allegations of criminal damage, a dog bite, a burglary, a minor traffic accident and a complicated landlord/tenant dispute and was now set to end with two forgotten children. She had a nasty feeling that she would be late off, and although she had nothing particularly planned, she just wanted to grab a takeaway and veg in front of the TV. Twelve hours at work was hard enough without having to stay on dealing with this shit just because another set of feckless parents had failed in their duty of childcare.
She checked her rear-view mirror and saw the children’s excited faces and felt guilty at the thought.
‘Has this happened before?’ She already knew the answer. This was obviously the first time; the teacher had said as much and she could tell by the children’s exuberance.
‘No, but this is fun,’ Jake said, with no obvious worry. ‘I can’t wait to tell my friends I went in a police car.’
She smiled at the words even though she was beginning to feel a sense of dread at the outcome of this situation. She was heading for their home address now. It was not too far away. Maybe the mother had thought she’d got a message through but the message had failed and she was waiting for them to turn up at home. Maybe she had arranged for someone else to come, while she was otherwise engaged at work and that person had let her down. Whatever the case, she was hoping that a visit to the address, and if necessary a chat with neighbours, might throw some light on what had happened.
She pulled up outside, noting the car directly in front of the house. Maybe one of the parents was here all along, too busy with their own affairs to realize what time it was.
She told her colleague to wait with the children and eased herself out of the driver’s seat. Her back ached from the weight of the kit-belt around her waist and the stab-proof vest dug into her shoulders. With any luck it could all be resolved quickly, with a lecture to the errant adults and a report to the local social services letting them know how irresponsible the parents were, then home to fish and chips and a dose of Britain’s got Talent.
She rang the doorbell and waited, listening for footsteps from within. Nothing came. She rang again and then knocked, bending down to peer through the letter box. Everything was silent. She swore out loud. Her nice relaxing evening was looking to be in jeopardy. Pulling herself upright, she squeezed behind the wisteria to stare through the window into the lounge. Her eyes scanned the room. Everything seemed in place. Her radio blared into action, making her start slightly. She shifted position ready to move on to the next window and it was then that she saw the body lying on the red, bloody carpet. It wasn’t moving. She could see it was a man, though she couldn’t be sure whether he was dead or alive. She needed to act fast. She considered the front door; it seemed quite substantial. She didn’t think she’d be able to shift that, but time was of the essence. She ran round the back of the house but that was all secure. Returning to the front she signalled to her colleague to stay where he was. The last thing she wanted were the kids wandering up to the house and seeing the bloody scene.
That done, she radioed for more assistance before drawing out her asp and smashing the lounge window, carefully knocking any large jagged pieces out of the frame, before hoisting herself up on to the window ledge. Her heart was pounding with fear and adrenaline as she climbed through. Every sense was heightened, as she listened for any sign that could point to the killer still being present. The man was clearly dead when she reached him. His body was cool and his eyes fixed and glassy. Most of the blood had drained out of him through the mass of open wheals around his face and neck. Christ! He was a bloody mess, quite literally.
She stood up, realizing she needed to check the rest of the house. Her eyes darted about watching for any movement. Apart from the man’s body, the room looked relatively untouched, with little sign of a struggle. There was no obvious forced entry either, as the house had still been secure. Whoever had done this appeared to either have had keys, or been granted entry by the dead man, in all probabilities, the children’s father. Vaguely she wondered whether her colleague would give in to temptation and come to join her, but she hoped he would stay where he was. She needed to know that the children would be safe from whoever had done this. For a second she thought of their little faces, so excited at the ride in the police car. Who would tell them their father was dead?
She realized with a jolt that their mother was nowhere to be seen, possibly lying dead, or dying in another room. Grabbing her asp and CS spray, she started to move around the house, stopping, after every few steps to listen for any slight sound, any tiny noise, that would alert her to the fact that she was not alone. She moved carefully and swiftly through each room, checking each crevice, each wardrobe, under each bed, anywhere big enough for a person to hide. The silence crowded in on her and all she could hear was the rush of blood pumping around her brain, but, thankfully, there was nothing more to be found.
She was just returning to the lounge when she heard the first sirens exploding in on the air. Her colleague came running up the path towards the house, having grabbed the first arrival, to take his place with the kids so he could join her.
He took one look at the body and swore.
‘Christ, Kazza. Are you all right? I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I wanted to leave the children but was worried in case they followed me. Anyone else in the house?’
She shook her head; anxious to reassure him that he had done exactly the right thing staying with the children. If he’d left them alone and something had happened, she’d never have forgiven herself.
‘No, I’ve had a look and there’s no trace.’
‘I presume that’s the father? What about the mother? Any sign of her?’
She shook her head.
‘Well, I think we have our suspect then,’ her colleague stared down at the cuts inflicted on Greg Leigh-Matthew’s face. ‘Fifty quid says those are the actions of a jealous woman. She’s caught him out and now he’s paid the price. He certainly won’t be looking at any other women again!’
A tide of uniforms was arriving outside now. She had to stop them all from coming in and trampling over the murder scene. She went to the front door and waited for the Inspector to arrive, barring the way from the curiosities of the ensuing constables.
‘Well, what do you say then?’ Her colleague repeated the bet, offering his hand to shake.
Karen raised her eyebrows as she took in the offer.
‘I hope to God you’re wrong,’ she said slowly. ‘Because, if you’re right, and she is his killer, those poor kids out there will grow up without either parent.’
Chapter 36
Bear sat in the cells at Charing Cross and chuckled quietly to himself. Information had been received that he was involved in the assault on Keith Hubbard. Information? Most probably from Hubbard himself then, the snivelling grass. Well he would be paying the dirty snitch another visit when he got out and next time the man wouldn’t be able to go running to the filth with his tales of woe. He’d have no tongue.
They were out getting Ratman now or so
they’d said; as if that was going to bother him. Ratman would never grass on him. They were, like the saying went, as thick as thieves. He trusted him like he would trust his own brother; more so even. They went back a long way; back to when they were kids in the middle of one of the largest estates in Peckham, glamorized amusingly on TV in Only Fools and Horses. There had been nothing glamorous in their existence though. Alcoholic crack-head mothers, non-existent fathers; the two of them had lived next door to each other back in the day when you could rely on your neighbours to help out, if they weren’t nicking from you! They had grown up together, scraping what little food and cash they could lay their hands on, thieving from the back of restaurants, pilfering from shops, anything to fill their growing bellies and frames.
Bear was built in the likeness of his street name: huge, muscular, powerful and covered in a layer of thick, black hair across his chest and back. He barely needed to work out; he was naturally powerful.
Ratman was built in the likeness of his street name too: skinny, thin-faced with a way of moving that resembled a rodent, twitching and darting one way and another as if always scared of being spotted. He was, however, fearless and Bear loved him for his courage and bravery in the face of adversaries much larger than he. No, the filth could bring his mate in and they wouldn’t get a squeak out of him. He laughed at his own joke.
Lying down on the thin mattress of his cell, he folded his arms up above his head. It would only be a matter of time before they were released on bail or with no further action. Hubbard was a fool to pursue them this way. It wasn’t worth his while; in fact it would be more than his life was worth. Bear was amazed he’d gone this far, but he must have. If they were bailed out pending statements and advice, it wouldn’t take long before Hubbard was eating his words. He’d make sure of that. He knew from previous experience that bail conditions not to contact the victim weren’t worth the paper they were written on.