by Tara Lyons
‘Well, that was the other reason the attending officer assumed this was Kerry,’ Audrey replied. ‘The victim’s jumper had been raised, leaving her torso bare, meaning they discovered something written in what we assume is her own blood. Would you like to see the body now, Inspector?’
He nodded, asked Dixon to accompany him and together they placed the protective shoe covers on and followed the pathologist inside the forensic tent. He groaned and looked away from the victim’s blood-soaked and swollen face.
‘Fuck’s sake, that’s brutal,’ Dixon whispered; the first time he had heard her use profanity, but it was warranted, thanks to the victim’s red and blue skin, broken blood vessels and eyelids the size of golf balls.
Hamilton’s eyes flashed back to the victim, this time resting on her naked stomach, and he read the small words which had been scrawled over her white flesh like a child’s finger-painting:
Tick tock,
Hamilton.
23
Back in the incident room, Hamilton — along with Clarke and Rocky — delivered the news to the officers who had stayed back. There was obvious relief in the room that the body they’d found wasn’t Fraser’s. Hamilton went on to explain that Dixon would remain at the crime scene with DI Daly to update them all as and when new evidence came to light. He wondered if the Hyde Park victim had been chosen simply because of her similarities to Fraser; had it been a gruesome twist of fate because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or had Murphy stalked this woman too? His mind clicked to a thought and he summoned Rocky to his side.
‘We never did find a lot of information about the mystery figure who attacked Fraser,’ he began, and then hesitated for a few moments. ‘Or the dead flowers and missing cat, but what if this has all been connected to Murphy? Perhaps she’s been following Fraser all this time.’
Rocky scrunched his face. ‘Impossible. Murphy was in Manor Hall Hospital at the time of those events.’
‘Yes, but we already know that place wasn’t as secure as it should have been.’ He hummed while deep in thought. ‘It just makes me think, even more so, that someone on the outside was helping Murphy. She could have asked them to keep an eye on Fraser, so she knew her patterns, how to enter her home … how to get to her.’
‘Okay, guv, what do you want me to do?’
Hamilton rubbed his index finger deep into his temple. ‘Check the dates of the Stratford incident and when the flowers were hand-delivered to Fraser’s home. Try and cross reference those with Murphy’s father; was he in London? And check them against the best friend, Natasha Holten. One visit from her friend could have been enough to pass all the information they needed. Not seeing her for the past four months could be a cover.’
‘Leave it to me,’ Rocky replied, before pouncing on his computer.
Hamilton stared at his watch. It was just shy of forty-eight hours since Murphy had escaped, since two people had lost their lives, since Kerry had been taken. His stomach clenched when he realised he had now began thinking of Fraser as Kerry; no longer just a colleague, but a victim. The sun had refused to rise on Sunday morning, grey clouds casting a shadow on the entire building, but the time had come for the press conference. Extra constables and sergeants had been assigned to the case, and they now waited in the incident room in the anticipation of numerous phone calls — hoax and, hopefully, otherwise.
Hamilton entered his office. The imminent inclusion of the press into this case worried him; would it actually hinder the investigation, possibly sending Murphy into a further rage and therefore placing Kerry in further danger? Or would they finally catch the break they needed with a sighting of this woman? Despite the thousands of CCTV surveillance cameras covering the capital, London was an easy city to get lost in. The ball of questions bounced back and forth off the wall of Hamilton’s brain. He needed to occupy his mind.
As he walked around his desk, he noticed the thick paperback balancing on the edge. Its white background was a stark contrast to the colourful lapel pin on the front cover. Hamilton couldn’t remember bringing it up from the car to his office, but he grabbed the book and opened it at the first chapter.
Lost in a world of words, Hamilton didn’t notice Clarke approach and lean against the doorframe until he heard his partner’s voice. ‘The Stranger Within, by Doctor Emine Inamdar.’
Hamilton looked up, glancing at the wall clock as he did, and was shocked to find he’d been sat there for almost forty-five minutes. He lay the book on the table, careful not to lose his place, and asked Clarke if he had an update.
‘Dixon called—’
‘About the body?’
‘No, the FLO who is stationed at Valerie Murphy’s house got in touch with her. Valerie is demanding to see her.’
Hamilton grunted, grabbed a sheet of paper from his tray and slipped it in between the pages as a bookmark. ‘No doubt to complain about her … about Thomas Billows being questioned.’
‘Do you want me or Rocky to come?’ Clarke asked, and walked with him into the main office; as predicated, the reinforcements were shielding plenty of calls.
‘No, I’ll meet Dixon there,’ Hamilton replied, and stopped in front of the whiteboard. Photographs of the latest victim, including the bloody message addressed to him, stood out more than anything else surrounding them. ‘I want you here, Clarke, getting any and all camera footage of the Hyde Park Bandstand and the surrounding area, streets, roads. Murphy has to be travelling around somehow, be it car or train or foot. And if she’s got Fraser with her, our girl wouldn’t be going along quietly.’
Clarke stood closer to his superior, nodding in acknowledgement of the task set for him, and then released a heavy sigh. ‘Why is she after you, guv? Why has she made this so personal?’
An hour ago, Hamilton would have answered that it was revenge — pure and simple cold revenge — for arresting Murphy, but now, his mind played around with other explanations. He peered over his shoulder in the direction of his office, of the book, and then turned back to the blood-stained message etched on the victim’s body.
‘Maybe it’s her way of asking for help, Clarke.’
His partner frowned, confusion contorting his face. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, but it’s something I’m trying to work out.’ He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Remember last year, every time we found a body it was because of an anonymous tip we’d had … What if Murphy was actually making those calls? I don’t know, so the bodies didn’t go undiscovered, so that we’d finally find who was committing the murders … so we’d finally find her.’
‘Yeah, we found her at the airport about to make a run for it. With, what … more than five dead bodies in her wake. Hardly a cry for help.’
‘I think that’s exactly what this victim was,’ he said, drumming his index finger on the image of the petite blonde, unrecognisable from the beating. ‘Someone crying out for help before it’s too late.’
Valerie Murphy sat on the sofa, her knee bouncing as if it were a separate limb to the rest of her body, unable to control the twitching and jerking. Thomas lay a hand on her thigh, but she pushed it away and stood up, listening to Susan, the family liaison officer, usher more officers into her home.
When Susan led the new comers into the living room, Valerie was pleased to see the Mediterranean-looking detective had returned, as she had asked. She had felt a warmth from this woman the last time they had spoken, almost a telepathic understanding from one mother to another, and Valerie knew she would try to help her daughter. She was surprised, however, to see the male mixed-race inspector again. His name slipped her memory now, but she remembered meeting him last year when he had treated Grace as a victim and witness, rather than a cold-hearted murderer.
‘I’m sure you’re both aware,’ Susan said to Valerie and Thomas, ‘but just in case … this is DI Hamilton and DS Dixon. Please, everyone, take a seat. Valerie has some important information she needs to share with
you. I’ll get the kettle on.’
Ah, yes — Hamilton — that was it, Valerie thought, and she clocked the look of confusion etched on his face. She waited until they had both sat down before she joined Thomas on the sofa again. He gripped her hand as soon as she did and her entire body tensed. She didn’t want his dramatic sympathy, she hated him. She hated herself.
‘So, Ms Murphy, what is this about?’ Hamilton spoke, his tone low and gentle, but his tight jaw and clasped hands told her he was in no mood for playing games. Luckily for him, she wasn’t either, but as much as she wanted to speak, she continually choked on her own words.
‘When you’re ready, sweetie.’ Thomas’s whispered words propelled her from the sofa again, and she stood in front of the two officers, wringing her hands once again.
Hamilton cleared his throat, taking his gaze off her for a few minutes and focusing on her ex. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Billows, do you not know why we’re here?’
‘No. Valerie only spoke to Susan. Then she advised that it was best to wait until you were here to take an official statement before any—’
‘I watched the news,’ Valerie interrupted. ‘I knew Gabe.’
She didn’t miss the look the two officers shared. The woman threw her long dark hair over her shoulder and reached for a notepad in her handbag. The man dropped his praying hands and inched forward on the sofa. Susan entered the room and efficiently worked around them to put cups of coffee and tea and milk and sugar on the table. Thomas kept repeating the word who, over and over, making her want to slap him even more. Valerie watched everything whizz around her, as if she wasn’t really in control of her body or tongue and couldn’t do or say anything further. This is what an out-of-body experience must feel like, she thought.
‘Valerie.’
‘Ms Murphy.’
‘Valerie.’
The repetition of her name rose like a foghorn, and Valerie glanced around the room, four sets of expectant eyes watching her.
‘Ms Murphy, you said—’
She held up her hand to stop Hamilton from speaking any further. ‘I know exactly what I said, Inspector.’
‘Just give her a moment, please,’ Susan added. ‘Valerie, sit here on this chair and take your time.’
Valerie did as instructed, taking a deep breath, and launched into her memory before she could stop herself. ‘About eighteen or nineteen years ago, I started dated a guy called Gabe Hardy.’ She paused and looked at Thomas before continuing. ‘We weren’t together then, Tom, and it was the first time I had dated anyone since you left. Anyway, I think I got a bit carried away with the attention and I let Gabe stay over as and when he wanted. Which was more often than not, especially over the weekends when he didn’t have much work.’
‘Did you know he worked at Manor Hall Hospital?’
‘No, of course not.’ She shook her head furiously. ‘He wasn’t there the time I visited Grace, but that’s my point … You see, Grace was only about thirteen when I was dating Gabe, but she would have remembered him. The picture they showed on the TV … he hadn’t changed that much, a few more wrinkles and grey hairs, put on a bit of weight … but I think she would have known him, still. So, you must be mistaken, she didn’t kill him. She’s been framed and she ran away because she’s scared, she—’
Valerie stopped abruptly when she noticed the detectives share that look again. She wanted to ask what it meant, but she realised her hands were trembling, as was her chin. The tears fell silently down her cheeks, choking any words on the verge of being released.
‘Ms Murphy, how long were you and Mr Hardy dating?’ Hamilton asked, his dark brown eyes glaring into her.
She stuttered through her sobs. ‘Not too long, about six months, but it was weird …’
‘What was weird?’ The inspector continued to badger her while Susan offered her a tissue. Thomas stayed completely quiet.
‘I thought … we were enjoying ourselves. We really got on, and he made me laugh, and feel good about myself again. But then, I don’t know, I felt like he lost interest in me. Grace had started acting up about the same time, mood swings and temper tantrums and she even ran away one weekend, so maybe it was me who stopped giving him the attention he was used to. He finished things with me and I never saw him again.’
Dixon cocked her head to one side. ‘Did Grace tell you why she had run away?’
‘She said she wasn’t happy.’ Valerie paused and looked down, watching her nails pull at the skin around her fingertips. ‘It was about the same time I stopped calling her Gracie. She’d shout that it wasn’t her name and get very upset, and she wanted to stay at her grandparents’ house a lot more. I figured it was built up pain and anger due to our split …’ She wagged her finger between herself and Thomas. ‘And then the confusion of seeing me with another man, maybe, I’m not sure … she was still a young girl. So, my dad took her to Blackpool for a second time. She had loved it there when he first took her, and when she came back I told her Gabe was gone and I promised her that there would be no more dating. Things got better again soon enough.’
‘When Grace ran away, did you notify the police?’ Dixon asked, and Valerie looked up; she saw an unexpected sadness in the woman’s eyes — much like how she imagined her own tear-stained eyes looked.
‘There was no need to call the police, although I nearly did.’ She remembered those few horrific hours when she rang all of Grace’s friends after she missed dinner and wasn’t home by eight in the evening. ‘I know that’s not too late, but she was only thirteen and it was so unlike her. My father phoned at about nine o’clock, just as I was ready to dial 999. He had found Grace hiding in his shed in the garden, so she hadn’t gone far, but she stayed there that weekend and he said he would have a chat with her. I don’t know what it was about, but like I said, they organised their seaside trip and … normality returned.’
Hamilton’s dark eyes found hers again, but this time when he spoke, his jaw and lips and shoulders all looked more relaxed. ‘It was your father who then moved in with you and Grace, isn’t that right?’
Valerie nodded. ‘About four years ago, yes. We nursed him through his cancer treatment, but he lost his battle.’ She puffed her cheeks and exhaled. ‘Wow, two years today. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it was his anniversary today. It’s just … everything that’s going on with Grace … and you know … Christ, I feel awful. How could I forget that?’ She paused and took a few moments to control the overwhelming urge to cry and scream and crumble to the floor; there would be plenty of time to remember her father, but right now she had to help her daughter. ‘Anyway, when my father did pass away, Grace was devastated. She shared a very special bond with him.’
‘Of course.’ Hamilton spoke softly but got to his feet like a spring pinched his arse. ‘Thank you for calling us so soon, Susan, Ms Murphy. We have to leave now and I must ask you not to speak to the press in the meantime, because I’m sure they’ll be camping outside your house soon enough.’
A sickness built in Valerie’s stomach as she stood to face the inspector. It was the last thing she wanted outside her home, but if they could help shed light on the fact that her daughter isn’t a cold-blooded killer, she didn’t care.
‘Susan will help ward them off,’ Hamilton continued, ‘but if you and Mr Billows could stay in the house for the time being.’
She tugged at his sleeve, her fingers wrapping themselves around his wrist. ‘Grace isn’t a monster. She’s been framed and she needs help. Please find my little girl, please help her.’
His eyes wavered between her and Thomas, but his voice was strong and confident when he uttered, ‘I will.’ And Valerie knew DI Hamilton was telling the truth.
24
When Fraser opened her eyes again, the taste of iron tarnished her mouth. She spat on the tiled floor and wasn’t surprised to see a glob of blood fly from her mouth. Still in the same place as before, this time her wrists and ankles bound again by thick rope, the light of day was now shining
through the high stained-glass windows. Now, she could clearly make out the plaques of names and dates ranging back from the early nineteen-hundreds; the large candles covered in cobwebs stood neglected on an iron candelabrum; a discoloured Virgin Mary stood high — almost floating — in an arched devotional area. Fraser shivered when she couldn’t tear her eyes from the blank expression of the virgin mother, but was brought back to her senses when a floorboard creaked to the left of her.
She spun her head around — the only body part she could move — and saw Murphy’s blank expression also staring at her from where she sat in the pews. The look was a far cry from the one she’d last seen before passing out, but it still worried her. She had lowered her guard with Livia, only to be tricked and beaten again. But now, looking at Murphy, a wave of fear took hold of her neck and a trail of goosebumps ran down her spine and arms.
‘I’m sorry,’ Murphy said; the voice was not the childish one of Livia or the angry one of Carly, there was a sadness in this tone.
‘Grace?’ Fraser replied. ‘Is that you?’
Murphy nodded but refused to make eye contact with Fraser. A sprinkling of hope burst the bubble of panic that had been threatening to erupt and she knew this would be her chance to get through to Murphy … her last chance at breaking free.
‘There’s no need to apologise, Grace. I know you can’t remember anything that’s happened while your alter-personalities are in control.’ At that, Murphy raised her head and looked in the direction of the altar, where Fraser sat uncomfortably tied-up. ‘It’s not like forgetting to buy the milk or what you went into another room for. You completely black-out, aren’t present, suffer from amnesia.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Grace said, barely louder than a whisper.
Breakthrough, Fraser thought. ‘After we arrested you, I researched dissociative identity disorder. If I don’t understand a certain subject, I’ll invest a lot of time reading and researching until I get it. That’s just the type of person I am.’