You're Next

by Michael Fowler

  ***

  Scarlett and George got back to the station shortly before lunch time. As she strode across the yard she got an incoming text on her personal mobile. It was Tarn, asking her if she could talk. She guessed he had heard about Ella. Probably seen it on the news. She told George to go ahead – that she would follow shortly – and rang him.

  ‘Hi Tarn, are you okay?’ She kept her tone low-key. The last thing she wanted was to sound cheerful given his tragedy.

  ‘So, so. Not sleeping good. Went round to Trish’s parents last night. They’ve been looking after Heather and Dale. It was the first time I’ve been able to see them since it happened.’

  ‘And how did it go?’

  ‘We all shed a few tears.’

  Scarlett felt a lump in her throat and swallowed. ‘That’s understandable. How are the kids?’

  ‘Heather’s had a bad time of it. She misses her mum. But Dale doesn’t seem to understand. Just keeps asking if mummy’s gone to heaven.’

  On that last sentence Tarn’s voice started to crack. Her eyes began to well up. This was heart-breaking. Fighting her own emotion, she answered, ‘He’s probably too young. That might be a good thing.’

  Tarn didn’t immediately respond. There was a moment of uneasy silence and then he said, ‘I’ve seen it on the news about Ella. They’re saying it's abduction, with all kinds of speculation. I thought I’d give you a ring. See what’s happened?’

  She told him about the fake phone call that had lured Ella from her home and how her car had been found abandoned near the derelict industrial estate. ‘To be honest we haven’t got a clue what’s happened to Ella. We’ve got everyone out trying to find her, but we haven’t found anything that might point out where she is, or what’s happened to her. I personally think it’s something to do with all the stalking business by James Green and he’s our main suspect at the moment.’

  ‘I rang you to say if you needed any extra hands down there I’m willing to come in.’

  Scarlett gulped, ‘That’s a lovely gesture Tarn, but everyone and his grandmother are involved in looking for her and I think you’ve got enough on your plate at the moment. Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes I guess so, but the offer’s there if you need me.’

  ‘Thank you, Tarn. I’ll pass on your message.’ Following an uncomfortable pause, she said, ‘I’m sure the team will be in touch over the next few days and I’ll ring you the moment we get something positive on Ella.’

  ‘Thanks Scarlett.’

  Just as she was about to say, ‘look after yourself,’ and end the call, Tarn said, ‘I just wanted to say, as well, that Trish’s funeral is next Tuesday. I haven’t sorted all the details yet, but her mum and dad want a church service. I think it’ll be where we got married.’

  ‘I’ll be there Tarn. Just let me know once you’ve got things sorted.’ A tear ran down her cheek as she finished the call.

  Sixty-three

  By mid-afternoon, Scarlett had developed the mother of all headaches. She’d been on the go for twelve hours and was fast burning up her reserves. For the past twenty minutes she had reacquainted herself with James Green’s antecedents and it hadn’t taken her long to realise that there was very little that would help track him down. At the time of recording them she hadn’t given it much thought, accepting what he had told her without question – now she was cursing herself for her slackness. In future she would probe more, she told herself, pushing his record to one side in frustration. Her vision had narrowed in the last few minutes and she was beginning to feel sick. She lifted her head to stare at the incident board. Ella’s pretty face dominated the white space. Except for the timeline, highlighting the instance of her leaving her flat and pin-pointing the moment of finding her abandoned car, that’s all they had by way of information. They were no nearer to finding her. Ella’s BlackBerry was still off-line and its last point of contact was the industrial estate. Her car had been recovered and was currently drying out in a forensic garage awaiting examination, and the search of the old business site had just finished without any trace of her. Things were not looking good. Some of the team were currently going through footage from road-side cameras located between her flat and the industrial estate, to see if anyone had been following her car, but it was early days. The DCI had put up James Green’s photograph, and written beneath it ‘Suspect,’ even though there wasn’t a shred of evidence to support that notion. Though there were questions he needed to answer, specifically why he was at the So Bar, and on Tarn’s street, when Ella was doing house-to-house following Trish’s murder. Diane Harris had tasked CSI with re-visiting Ella and Ryan’s flat to carry out a more in-depth examination, in case anything had been missed after their break-in. There was nothing to suggest Green had carried out that burglary, nevertheless, he needed to be questioned about it: Scarlett’s suspicions, with her reasoning behind it, needed answers. And then there was the message on Green’s bedroom wall. It had been discussed at length, but its significance and meaning eluded them. Scarlett had told the squad she thought there were similarities in the handwriting style with that of something she had received anonymously a week ago and she produced the handwritten envelope, note and old coin from her drawer. It had now become an important piece of evidence. She also told the team about the bag of fruit she had received prior to the coin, and that provoked more debate, which drew no conclusion. The only conclusion the team came to – it was all part of a cat-and-mouse game James Green was playing, and while the main crux of their enquiries was the urgent need to find Ella, the other was tracing him. Scarlett turned her attention to Green’s mug-shot, studying his features. With his waxed and ruffled straw-coloured hair, baby-blue eyes and strong jaw-line, given any other circumstances, she might have called him handsome. He’d been described as having the face of an angel. But since the suicide of Claudette Jackson, she thought of him as the Angel of Death.

  Dragging her gaze away from Green's photograph, Scarlett launched into action, snatching up her desk phone. She’d suddenly remembered a contact in housing who might be able to help them find Green. She also had a number of nursing homes to call in the hope of finding Dorothy, his mother. There was still a lot of work to do before she called it a day.

  ***

  As she climbed off her bike, Scarlett realised that she could remember very little of her drive home. The past thirty-five minutes had been a blur. She had done eighteen hours straight through and was exhausted. Unlocking the door and closing it behind her, she dragged her weary body out of her biking leathers and boots, and wandered into the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of chilled water from the fridge and made her way upstairs. Drinking half of the water, she set the glass down on her dressing table, undressed, headed to the bathroom and climbed into the shower. Normally the warm water would have rejuvenated her, but not tonight. She was mentally and physically shattered, and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep. She dried herself quickly, finished her glass of water, set her phone alarm for the morning and dropped down onto the bed. As she collapsed into her pillows and pulled over the duvet she hoped that nightmares about Ella weren’t going to invade her already overtaxed brain.

  Sixty-four

  Scarlett could hear a ringing noise in her dream, until her brain told her it was her phone and she snapped awake. It was dark and it took her a few seconds to adjust. Her phone was still ringing and she picked it up, looking at the bedside clock as she answered. 05.31. There was something deja vu about this. She knew it was something important again.

  ‘Sorry about this Scarlett.’ It was Diane Harris. ‘Ella’s been found.’

  There was nothing upbeat in the way the DCI delivered the message so she knew this was going to be bad news. ‘It’s not good, is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid not Scarlett. She’s been found dead in Richmond Park. I’ve just received the call, so I know very little at the moment, other than she’s definitely been murdered. I tried to ring the duty Inspector who�
�s at the scene, but I can’t get hold of him, and I know it’s not too far away from you, so I’m asking if you don’t mind going down there to liaise with him and hold the fort until I get there. I know how close you were to Ella so I can understand if you don’t want to. I can turn out Hayden instead.’

  ‘No that’s okay. It’s literally five minutes’ drive for me. I’ll get myself sorted quickly and get down there.’

  ‘Great. She was found by the Park Police. I’m guessing they’ll be there as well. Get as much as you can, and call out who you need to call out. I should be with you within the hour.’

  ‘No problem, boss.’

  ‘And Scarlett...I’m sorry about this.’

  ***

  The outer cordon was already in place by the time Scarlett got to Richmond Gate, her nearest entrance to the park, and a member of the Park Police was standing guard. She showed him her identification, informed him that her boss was on her way, and took the right-hand fork to Pembroke Lodge Gardens, where she parked her Triumph. Removing her helmet, she pulled on her all-in-one Tyvek suit and entered the Cafeteria grounds. It had been a good six months since she’d last been here, but the park had been a regular haunt through the years of living with her aunt and she knew her way around. A Met Officer acknowledged Scarlett with a nod and solemnly told her the body was on King Henry Eighth’s Mound. Scarlett thanked her and made her way through the decorative grounds, onto the path that took her to the Mound. She soon came to the inner cordon. Here were another PC and the Inspector Diane Harris had mentioned during her phone call. He greeted her with, ‘It’s not a pretty sight I’m afraid. Was she a colleague?’

  Scarlett nodded. How surreal – ten days ago they were celebrating Ella’s engagement, Ella talking wedding plans, and now she was dead. Life is so fucking cruel! Shaking away the thought, she switched back into work mode. ‘Have SOCO been contacted?’

  ‘Requested half an hour ago,’ replied the Inspector. ‘The Pathologist has been contacted as well.’

  ‘What time was she found?’

  ‘Just before five. One of the Park Police guys found her on his rounds. He’s ex-Met. Retired. His name’s Rod Jones. He’d seen it on the news about DC Bloom going missing and recognised her immediately. He’s currently going around the grounds with one of my team to see if they can see anyone.’

  Scarlett made a mental note of the name. It might be some time before she got to speak with him: the grounds covered 2,500 acres, made up of many wooded areas, ponds, a golf course and children’s play areas; it wasn’t an easy place to search. Nodding she said, ‘When he turns up can you tell him I need to speak with him. Oh, and my gaffer’s on her way, it’s the DCI you spoke with earlier. When she arrives, can you tell her where I am?’ Ducking beneath the blue and white ribbon, Scarlett began her ascent to the top of the mound. The first fifty metres were overlooked by tall bushes and trees, but once free of those she stepped into a clearing, which gave her a spectacular panoramic view, down the vale, and across East Sheen Common to Richmond and Sheen, and where, at eye level, she watched green parrots swoop between the treetops. This morning, a fine mist drifted across the Common. She stopped for a second, taking in the beautiful view and trying not to think about what horrific sight lay ahead. After her short breather, she passed the last of the clipped hedgerows that lined the footpath, and stepped onto the top of the mound where the observation point was.

  Ella’s body lay a few yards away, just in front of bushes with a keyhole view to St. Paul’s Cathedral. The sight of her friend, spread-eagled and naked, made her gasp out loud and she went light-headed. Thankfully she was next to the metal railings and she reached out and grabbed them. Controlling her breathing, steadying and calming herself, she released her grip and edged closer. It looked as if Ella had been dead some time. She had always been pale, but now Scarlett could see veins and blotches through the porcelain looking skin. What really grabbed her attention though was the damage to her genital area, the metal pole protruding from her vagina. The brutality did not end there: Ella’s beautiful head had been severed from her body. Dropping to her knees, Scarlett screwed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. This was just too much to take in.

  Sixty-five

  The sound of squawking and shrieking from green parrots and someone catching their breath brought Scarlett back to the present. She pushed herself up from the ground just as Diane Harris appeared from behind some bushes.

  ‘Bloody hell, that was steeper than I thought,’ she gasped, stepping up onto the path that ringed the mound.

  Scarlett turned to face her.

  ‘Are you all right Scarlett? You look as though you’re about to faint.’

  Scarlett stepped to one side, giving her DCI a full view of Ella’s body.

  Diane slapped a hand across her mouth. ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘You can’t see from there. But she’d been beheaded as well.’

  ‘Jesus, Scarlett.’

  Drawing up her face mask, Diane Harris stepped towards Ella’s body. ‘Come on we’ll do this together. Let’s see what we’ve got.

  They stared down at Ella’s corpse.

  ‘She wasn’t killed here.’ Diane announced, pointing a finger. ‘See, there’s no blood anywhere: dried blood on the body, but nowhere else. Whoever killed Ella did it at some other place and brought her here.’

  ‘She’s been deliberately placed here like this, if you ask me.’

  Diane shot Scarlett a sideways look. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Put here, like this, on Henry the Eighth’s Mound. You know the significance of this place, don’t you?’

  ‘Not with you, Scarlett?’

  ‘This place is rumoured to be where Henry waited for the signal rocket to be fired from the Tower of London after Anne Boleyn was beheaded. This is more than a coincidence don’t you think?’ Scarlett couldn’t tear her gaze away from Ella’s severed head. The eyes were closed but her face bore a frozen look of pain, and she couldn’t stop her eyes drifting down to where the metal pole protruded between her friend’s legs. Scarlett shuddered. She couldn’t imagine what Ella must have gone through. This was so surreal. Ella was dead. Butchered. Beheaded.

  Diane Harris touched her shoulder. ‘We’ll get whoever did this Scarlett. Don’t you worry.’

  ‘James Green,’ she said, gritting her teeth.

  ‘You’re angry.’

  ‘Yes I fucking am. But I know it was Green. My gut tells me.

  ***

  Shortly after 9 a.m. Diane Harris told Scarlett she was returning to the station to brief the team, and get the murder investigation under way, leaving her to manage the scene. Scarlett didn’t envy her: her boss had the daunting task of informing Ella’s boyfriend, Ryan, about the discovery, though she guessed the police grapevine had already played its part in breaking the news. She was so glad she hadn’t been given the job; the way she felt, she would probably have burst into tears in front of him.

  Within half an hour of the DCI leaving, the Pathologist arrived. He knew the victim was the detective reported missing on the news, and he gave his heartfelt condolences to Scarlett before commencing his examination. Handling Ella’s body with the utmost compassion his assessment was that she had been dead at least 12 hours and her head had been removed after death. Blood loss and shock from the assault with the metal pole were the likely cause of her death. He said his goodbye with more words of commiseration, which Scarlett thought was a wonderful gesture, and she made a note to ensure a letter of gratitude be sent to the Coroner to pass on to him. Then she waited for the forensic team. They arrived just after 10 a.m. setting up a tent over Ella’s body before starting their scientific scrutiny. Scarlett liaised with the duty Inspector, and the Supervisor of the Park Police, to see how the search of the grounds had gone. Several early morning dog walkers had been stopped, but they hadn’t found anyone without a legitimate excuse for being there. The park had so many access points that it was impossible to shut down the grounds and so the dec
ision was made that only Pembroke Lodge and grounds, where Ella’s body was, be sealed off. The car park outside the lodge was to be the Rendezvous Point for those coming to the scene. Diane Harris checked in with Scarlett at one o’clock, with news that they believed they had traced James Green’s mother, Dorothy, to a nursing home at Feltham and they were currently firming that up. The relief almost reduced Scarlett to tears and she was about to ask if she could have the job of visiting her when the DCI ended the call. Frustrated, Scarlett returned her phone to her trouser pocket and decided she needed a coffee: no one had thought to tell the cafeteria staff not to come in, and so it was open, but because the grounds had been sealed off only officers working the crime scene could use it. In the café a couple of uniform officers were occupying a table and she acknowledged them with a brief nod as she went to the counter. She ordered a cappuccino and a toasted teacake – she suddenly realised she was hungry – and sought a table by a window, choosing to be alone: she wasn’t in the mood to chat. She had just sat down when her mobile vibrated with an incoming text. It was Alex. ‘Just seen it on the news about Ella. How are you.’ Scarlett smiled, despite a heavy sadness overwhelming her, then texted him back, telling him she was at the scene, and that it was awful but she was dealing with it. She ended with ‘Call you later.’

  ‘Do you fancy coming to my place after work. I could cook something or get a takeaway?’

  She gave his text some thought and sent, ‘I don’t think I will be good company.’

  Seconds later came the response, ‘It’s always better to be miserable with someone than be miserable alone.’

  That made her grin. She texted, ‘I’ll let you know when I finish,’ and ended her message with a kiss before sending it. As she returned the phone to her pocket she felt slightly better.