The Vine Cross (The Vine Series Book 1)

by S P Dawes

  “Maybe she put up a fight, and he made her pay?” Remarked Fraser.

  “Or something’s changed.”

  He wondered how long it would be before he was lifting one of these sheets from Hayley’s body and having to inform Jesse. He shook his head. It wasn’t something he could bear to think about. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that these girls were fitting into a pattern. Long brunette hair, blue eyes, although this one didn’t have any to show. And why inflict the brand, when he’d tried to conceal the others?

  “I’m guessing there’s no identification?” Martin mused.

  The pathologist, swabbing underneath her fingertips, pointed to a table set up behind him.

  Walking over to it, he spied a glittery clutch bag. Placing their gloves on first, Martin opened it, taking each item out separately. A lipstick, round compact mirror, a phone with no charge in it, a purse. He opened the purse and saw that she had a driving license in it, pulling it out, thankful that they’d be able to positively identify someone. He read Helena Cartwell. Reading her address, he showed Fraser. Opening the clutch bag again, he pulled out a photograph. The photo was of a girl with a group of friends outside the London eye. He compared the photo with the driving license. None of the people in it looked like the driver, placing it in an evidence bag, he left the table.

  On arrival back to the station, Martin made his way to DI Hallam’s office, that was being used by DI Tinker.

  “Where have you been?” Asked DC Turner, meeting DC Fraser in the hallway next to the coffee machine.

  “Body’s just turned up.” Dave placed a pound in the machine while Fraser pulled his cup away.

  “Bad?” Asked Dave, watching Fraser sip tentatively from the plastic cup.

  Fraser nodded.

  “Same as the others?”

  “Worse mate, he’s upping his game, I’d say.”

  Dave shook his head, regretfully.

  “I thought Marty McFly was going to chuck his guts,” confided Fraser quietly.

  Dave took his drink, chuckling at the nickname they dare not say around him and started walking to the incident room, Fraser followed him.

  “Any evidence or have we got sweet F. A again?” Asked Dave.

  “Well, this one had a driving license, and a picture in her handbag. So, I suppose it’s better than nothing. This time we might get an ID.” Fraser sounded hopeful as he held the door out for Dave to enter.

  “I’ve just remembered I’ve got to do something; I’ll be back with you in a minute.” Fraser shrugged and let the door swing shut as Dave rushed downstairs.

  “I’m DS Wells and this is DC Fraser, could we come in, please?”

  She checked their identification cards and allowed them entry to her living room. When they walked in, they could see clothes and toys consumed most of the space not already taken up by baby equipment.

  “Can I ask you if you know Helena Cartwell, please?” The lady changed to a paler shade of grey. “Ma’am?”

  “Yes… sorry, I’ve not heard anyone say her name for a while.” The lady sat down on the arm of the chair to steady herself. “I’ve not seen Helena for five years.”

  “Can you tell me about the last time you saw her?” Martin asked.

  “She left; told me she was never coming back. Why are you here?”

  Martin and DC Fraser looked at one another, and then Martin delivered the news. The blow hit her like a bolt, and he grabbed for the baby he thought she was going to drop. Holding the baby, and bouncing him up and down to keep him calm, he asked the lady how she knew Helena.

  “Helena was my girlfriend.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Why did she leave?” Asked Martin gently.

  “We were having a rough time, arguing over everything, snapping, she decided she could do better without me,” she smiled, but it didn’t mask the pain she felt reliving the last conversation they’d had.

  “Had something brought it on?” He pressed.

  “That bloody church!”

  Martin raised his eyebrows for her to continue.

  “She started to going to some church. She had a drink problem, but she’d been getting help, something happened and she resorted back to it. That’s when she sought help from that church, but they had some weird ideas. They convinced her that what she was doing with me was sinful, so she left. Said they’d give her a new life, show her the error of her ways. Why she listened I’ve no idea, but it seemed everything I did after that, fit up with what they said. Couldn’t do right for doing wrong.”

  “Where was this church?” Asked DC Fraser.

  “I never went, but I believe it was in a village somewhere round here?”

  “Does she have any family?”

  The lady shook her head.

  Martin handed her the baby back as she seemed to have recovered enough. He took a copy of the picture they’d retrieved at the scene from his pocket. “Can you tell me if you recognise anyone in this photograph?”

  She took the photo and scoured the faces but shook her head.

  “OK, thank you.” He took it back and placed it in his inside pocket, telling the lady he would leave her with DC Fraser to take her details while he phoned the office.

  Outside on the doorstep Martin pulled out his phone. “Where are you?”

  “On my way back,” answered Jesse. “Why?”

  “I’ll be round in twenty minutes.” He hung up just as DC Fraser exited the house. Making their way to the car Martin told him he’d drop him off, saying he would be back ASAP, but to make a start on the church, see if they could find anything out about it.

  Hearing the knock on the door, Jesse answered. “Dave?”

  He smiled and made his way into the hallway between the living room and the stairs. “I think you’re in trouble, Jesse.”

  Jesse swung the door shut and stood perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

  “They’ve found something at one of the scenes,” admitted Dave, looking remorseful.

  “What scene and what have they found?” He watched Dave shift uncomfortably in front of him. If they had found something out about Hayley, he’d better get on with it and tell him before he throttled him.

  “There’s a picture. The girl on it is someone you know,” digging into his inside pocket he handed him a copy of the photograph.

  Jesse peered at it but didn’t recognise her.

  “It’s that woman you met in the bar in Nottingham at the Christmas do.”

  Jesse looked again but was unconvinced.

  “You’ve got a better memory than me mate, I don’t recognise her,” said Jesse handing it back to him.

  “You saying I’m lying?” Argued Dave defensively.

  Jesse, taken aback, tried to defend his behaviour. He knew he was tired but hadn’t thought he’d said anything inappropriate. “No, I’m just saying I don’t remember her, that’s all. Why would that put me in trouble?”

  “She’s just wound-up dead. Same as the others, slit stomach, the lot. Only this time they have assaulted her, her eyes taken out, and they have cut her face up. It’s a right fucking mess.” Dave was sweating.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Just thought I better warn you, that’s all.”

  Jesse didn’t understand, he knew he had had little sleep, but he couldn’t see how any of this applied to him.

  “I best get going.”

  Jesse opened the door for him, watching him rush to his car. An unpleasant feeling stuck with him, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it.

  Ten minutes later Martin was banging on the window. Jesse let him in and put the kettle on. Leaning on the worktop waiting for it to boil, he looked across to Martin waiting for him to speak.

  “I thought I should pop by; see how you’re baring up,” Martin watched Jesse spoon coffee into two mugs. “We have no more info on Hayley, but I spoke to the dad. He says he doesn’t know where she is, but he didn’t strike me as very trustworthy to be honest. The car le
aving the shop disappears into a warehouse, doesn’t come out for hours and doesn’t seem to lead anywhere. So, we think he dumped it, probably left in a separate car late at night. We’re keeping our ears to the ground, though.”

  Jesse handed him his drink.

  “How are you?”

  “I heard another body dropped.”

  Martin looked at his friend suspiciously.

  “Dave just told me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He seemed to think I had something to worry about,” answered Jesse.

  “Why?” Martin repeated.

  “Again, no idea,” he shrugged. “He told me this one was even more violent.”

  Martin nodded and sipped his drink.

  “Got any more leads on Demy?”

  “Wish I did, he seems to have turned into a fucking ghost,” Martin instantly regretted his word choice and winced. “We’re checking through CCTV, so far it looks like that Luton stopped off in a warehouse two miles away from the house. Only problem is that warehouse backs straight onto the A1. So, far we’ve identified ten cars leaving in the first hour, but it seems to be a rather busy depot. Trying to follow all of them on shitty CCTV, when most of the fuckers are obsolete is proving to be a nightmare, but we’re not giving up. They stopped somewhere, and once we know where, we’ll hopefully be able to pick up a lead.”

  “He’s not stupid, he’ll know where the coverage is thinnest and cut and run there,” answered Jesse, sipping his drink.

  “Way to burst my bubble,” Martin smiled, trying to lift the sombre mood a little. “As you’d expect, there’s nothing in his or Gleeson’s name and we can’t find any accounts thus far to trace any money, but again we’re working on it. The fuckers are into some heavy shit; they can’t stay buried for long.”

  “Yeah, but how long?” Asked Jesse, almost to himself.

  “I’ve spoken to vice; they’ve got someone on the inside. Stuffs stirring, but they can’t get close enough to work out what. I think if we’re going to have any leads, it will come from there. They can’t organise and keep hold of a business such as that and be absent for too long, it just doesn’t work that way. They’ve said as soon as they see him, they’ll call.”

  Jesse nodded, but his stomach tightened. She could already be dead.

  “Anyway, I’ve not come round for that. Did Hayley tell you she changed her name?”

  “No, but I assumed as much with her dad being a Baxter and her…” Jesse struggled to finish the sentence.

  “She applied as soon as she was eighteen. We believe that must have been round the time she disappeared.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “We looked at her medical records with her old name, it usually flips over. For some reason, hers hasn’t. You were right about the pregnancy. She was sixteen, the baby died because of a fall. Obviously the social got involved, but it’s recorded as a mistake with a boy at school, and as far as we can see they sort no more action.”

  “It wasn’t a boy from school, it was Demy,” answered Jesse.

  Martin just nodded, he could see Jesse was in pain, he wished he had better news. “We found a picture today.”

  “Dave showed me,” said Jesse.

  “Why?”

  Jesse shrugged he didn’t have a clue.

  “Hayley’s on it.”

  Jesse stood up straight, confused.

  “Not in the front, but near the Thames,” Martin took the photo out of his pocket and handed it to Jesse. It was different to the one Dave had shown him. This one was a group of friends in front of the London eye. Martin pointed to the girl in the background near the railings, “She’s with a woman”.

  “Rihanna!?”

  Martin walked into Jesse’s office. He needed to get in touch with Rihanna. He didn’t want to leave that up to him. They hadn’t split on suitable terms, and it wasn’t a wonderful idea to let him go to her with this. He had to understand the link and not have a door close in his face. Jesse was now connected, and he needed to make sure that didn’t turn into a direct threat to Jesse or the investigation.

  “Hello, is this Rihanna Hallam, I’m speaking to please?” Martin tapped his ball-point pen on the edge of the table.

  “Well, I use my maiden name now, but yes, this is Rihanna Campbell,” said a curt voice.

  “Hi, this is DS Wells, from Newark police station. Would it be possible to speak with you, please?”

  “Martin! Yes, what about?” She asked suspiciously.

  “I’d rather discuss that at the station, but it appears you may have come into contact with someone of interest to us.” He couldn’t afford to give out any information until he knew whether she had anything to hide, and it was much easier to read people in person than on the phone.

  “If this is about a client, you know I can’t divulge anything, detective sergeant?”

  “No, Rihanna it’s not, when would you be available to come in?” Martin heard her sigh with frustration.

  “I’m in London at the minute, but I can get the train after work. I’d be there about seven?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you then, thank you,” Martin hung up, he would have to let his wife know he would be late home. That was going to go down about as well as a whore in the Vatican.

  Chapter 22

  Hayley woke up to an empty bed. She had firmly believed she wouldn’t be waking up, least of all, on her own after last night. But he had kept his distance, after the initial outburst of violence that resulted in her jaw feeling like it had exploded.

  Tentatively touching her cheek, she realised it had swelled to double the size. She didn’t want to view the mess, but she couldn’t help be curious to the damage. She gently slipped from the covers and tiptoed across the landing with the comforter wrapped round her to the bathroom. Pulling the cord as she walked in, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and winced. He had caught her eye in the punch. It was darkening around the bottom of the socket, moving her tongue around her mouth until she could feel the swelling along the outside of her teeth. She should have put some ice on it immediately.

  Listening to see if she could hear anything in the house, Hayley walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. Demy had bought her some clothes. She knew he had retrieved her items from the flat but so far, she’d not seen anything familiar. The clothes that Demy had brought her were old looking, a long-chequered skirt made of wool and a long-sleeved blouse that would have suited someone from a previous century. There was no underwear. Undoubtedly, to make her feel vulnerable, it worked. Skulking downstairs, stopping after every few steps, she realised she was alone.

  Her stomach made her aware of its emptiness, but she dared not take anything out of the fridge or larder without permission, so she just poured herself a glass of water. Walking around the house, she tried to familiarise herself with her surroundings. If she ever felt she couldn’t cope, she’d need to know how to get out.

  The house was constructed of wood, which was unusual for England. She was sure that was to help him hear every sound. It would have made a lovely family home, thought Hayley, almost laughing, because instead it acted as a prison. The open plan helped to make the house feel larger than it was, but resulted in there being no place to hide.

  The only room hidden was a utility at the right of the kitchen, which was small but housed a chest freezer and the coats and shoes for outside, not that she had any. She wasn’t expecting to leave anytime soon. The windows all held blinds and heavy curtains. Anything to keep the world out, she thought, except the kitchen window, which was empty, and revealed a large lawn with a big wooden shed and bushes covering the back of the garden. He’d locked all windows and doors. So much for having freedom. Clearly, he didn’t trust his threats were enough just yet.

  Hayley heard the front door opening, so she quickly made her way from the utility room to the kitchen.

  “You’re up.”

  Hayley didn’t respond.

  “Next time you won’t make
me so mad,” he said scanning her face, walking over to her; he pushed her chin up, causing the pain in her jaw to intensify. “Serves you right though.” Dropping it, he walked to the sink. “You had anything to eat?”

  Hayley turned to him. “No.”

  “When are you going to stop messing about then?” He inquired, staring at her as he leant back with his arms folded.

  “Sorry?”

  “Well, that’s a start,” he answered, smiling triumphantly. “Go on then,” he said, watching her standing in front of him.

  “What?” she asked, worrying about what he was expecting. Had she forgotten something?

  “Well, I saw you in your full glory last night, but you gave me nothing. Thought you’d had time to rethink your actions.”

  Hayley shuddered. She couldn’t be sure if it was from the icy floor or the fear that she may have to do something for him that made her feel violently sick.

  “You know the duty of a wife. If you’re truly coming back to the fold, we need to make sure that happens.”

  She wanted to run. Every inch of her skin was crawling, but she remained still, trying not to giveaway her thoughts.

  “After all, the church expects a baby. They’ve waited long enough.” Demy walked towards her and she fought the urge to push him away as he gathered her skirt in his hands. She could feel his finger on the inner part of her thigh. “I know I sure as hell have,” he whispered in her ear.

  Just then his phone rang, and he broke away from her to turn around and answer it. She knew it was only a small reprieve, but it was a victory all the same. Her lungs and legs shook, feeling like she would pass out as she gripped the chair at the head of the table.

  Flustered, Demy disconnected the call.

  Grabbing his keys, he dashed out.

  Hayley could feel the hunger again. She was sure a leather boot would make her salivate right now. She’d have to find something unmissable. She couldn’t cope simply on water. Walking to the fridge, she found a biscuit barrel on top. Opening it with eager anticipation, before seeing there were only four cookies. She knew she shouldn’t risk taking one. He may not count a whole packet, but he sure as hell could count to four. Replacing the lid, she opened the fridge door, viewing the contents. There was nothing with a vast amount. Slamming the door shut, she walked over to the cupboard, staring at the bread.