The Next Girl: A gripping thriller with a heart-stopping twist

by Carla Kovach

  Gina hoped more than anything that this witness was going to be the one. Just one clue was all she needed, one good clue. It was obvious that they were close – the perp was becoming desperate. He had to slip up soon. Maybe tonight he had.

  Forty-Seven

  ‘Fill me in,’ Gina said as she strode across the incident room towards Jacob. She threw her coat over a desk and sat next to him.

  ‘What a nightmare for that family. I don’t envy them at the moment.’ Jacob rubbed his dark eyes. She noticed that his shirt wasn’t properly tucked in and he was wearing odd socks. His fine hair was mussed at the back where he’d been separated from his pillow; he’d obviously rushed in without combing his hair. Consequences of being called out in the middle of the night. She then reflected on her own appearance and grimaced at the thought.

  Briggs entered and sat down, trying to flatten his hair. ‘I hear we have a witness,’ he said.

  Jacob threw his pen down. ‘We certainly do, and we have a description. A twenty-seven-year-old local by the name of Elliot Cooper was on his way back from a friend’s house. He’s also the one who called the fire department. Anyway, the suspect passed him with a holdall that could easily have contained an empty fuel can of some description. Cooper said the suspect was muttering to himself and didn’t even notice him as he passed. He was wearing some sort of hooded top but the hood was down. He said he wouldn’t have ordinarily taken much notice but the man’s behaviour was exceptionally odd and it was so late.’

  ‘How close was he to the suspect?’ Gina asked.

  Jacob pulled out the typed-up statement and began to scan the information on it. ‘The suspect bumped into him. That was another thing he said – there wasn’t even an apology. Our man shouted at the suspect. As per his statement, he called him a wanker, but he was completely ignored. Mr Cooper stated that he knew he’d had a couple of drinks so he didn’t pursue the incident any further, which is when he continued on towards Herring Crescent, where he lives. Of course, he never got home as he spotted the Jenkinses’ front door alight and called the fire brigade.’

  He handed Gina the statement. She was immediately drawn to one piece of information, though she couldn’t work out why. ‘Dark messy hair, about five nine or ten. Average build. Mr Cooper said that he watched the suspect rubbing his neck and left shoulder as he approached, as if he were in some discomfort.’ Gina stood and began pacing the incident room. She stopped and closed her eyes. ‘Where’s my mind going with this?’

  ‘Are you okay, ma’am?’ Wyre asked, entering with a mug of coffee.

  ‘Shh.’ Briggs held a finger up to his mouth.

  ‘Yes, there’s just something…’ Gina trailed off as she stared into space.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Briggs asked.

  The room was silent as she tapped the statement and smiled.

  ‘I’ve got it. I know who we’re looking for. Briefing in the incident room in two minutes. I want everyone there.’

  Forty-Eight

  ‘Get all the information we have on Jeffrey Wall – now.’ All the old notes flashed through her mind. Luke, Deborah’s workplace, the pub, the school. His car had been in the Angel Arms car park all that night; it hadn’t moved. He’d been in the office – or had he? Did the staff just assume he was in the office, therefore providing his alibi without thinking? He must have left by foot, avoiding the cameras. As the person who was watching the CCTV that night he’d certainly know where he could walk to avoid detection. Clever, not even a shadow on the footage. So where the hell had he left the van?’

  Jacob stood and walked over to Gina. ‘The barrel man at the pub?’

  She turned to face him and her smile turned into a grin. ‘He’s about five ten with brown hair, but there’s an even bigger giveaway…’

  ‘Guv?’ Wyre said.

  ‘The day we went back to the pub, I watched as he brought the barrel up from the cellar. He placed it down for a moment and I noticed him rubbing his neck. Imagine carrying barrels like that, for years. It would do me in. He was carrying the barrel on his left shoulder. It’s him. Paula, put a warrant out for his arrest and let all departments know. We need to get to him before dawn. Surprise the bastard.’ She grabbed her coat.

  ‘Did you just call me Paula? I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my first name,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Indeed I did. Now quick, we need to apply for a search warrant on Wall’s property. I’ll call our lovely magistrate Daniel Berwick and let him know we’re on our way to get it signed.’

  ‘On it now, guv.’ Wyre turned back to her computer and began typing away.

  Jacob took the statement from Gina, held it to his lips and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Mr Cooper.’ His phone rang and he smiled as he listened to the other person on the line. ‘Add a chipped tooth to the description.’

  Briggs stood. ‘Nail the bastard and keep me updated on everything.’

  Forty-Nine

  As they charged through Wall’s door, led by the enforcer, Gina called out, ‘Jeff Wall, this is DI Harte and DS Driscoll. We have a warrant for your arrest and a warrant to search the property.’ She crept a few steps closer to one of the closed doors. She wriggled in her stab vest and realised it was a little bit tight. Her breath was ejected with force every time she exhaled. She felt for her truncheon and pepper spray, which were all accessible and in their rightful place. She flung the door open as officers flooded the other rooms in unison. She pulled out her torch as she entered the dark kitchen-lounge. ‘Bloody hell, it stinks in here,’ she said as she covered her nose.

  Jacob brushed past her. ‘Fortunately, it only smells of old bin,’ he replied. The curtains were drawn on the old split-level cottage. Wall lived on the ground floor.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ one of the officers shouted.

  ‘Where the hell is he?’ Gina whispered. She stepped around the room, flashing her torch into every corner and crevice. The seventies’ brown and orange wallpaper had peeled in strips off the walls, revealing the damp plaster beneath. The old tiled fireplace was devoid of any waste and the room was freezing. Hardly any furniture occupied the space in the small room. A floral two-seater sofa was pushed against the back wall. An old teak coffee table sat in front of it. She flashed her torch a little closer to the table. There was a single coffee cup containing a mass of mould that resembled mushrooms. An old box-style television filled the corner of the room by the window. Gina walked over to the fireplace and got a closer view of a photo in a frame. ‘He has a photo of Deborah. Was this taken outside the school?’

  Jacob walked over to her and stared at the photo. ‘That’s definitely the school her kids attended.’

  The photo had been taken from a distance. Deborah had been standing there, unaware that she was being watched. Gina felt a wash of nausea spreading through her body. Fanning her face, she took a step back.

  ‘Guv?’ Jacob said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You look a bit peaky, are you alright? I know it whiffs in here but we’ve smelled worse.’

  Gina shook her head. ‘I’m okay, it’s just the remnants of this virus.’ She knew it was a lie. It was the smell of rot and the thought that Deborah was somewhere out there, still being held by this monster. The hairs on her neck prickled as she thought of Terry. She imagined his filthy hands all over her naked body as she wept. She hoped that Wall’s filthy hands weren’t all over Deborah while they were here.

  ‘Tell me about it. When I awoke in the night, I had to spend several minutes coughing my guts up.’

  ‘Thank you, Jacob,’ she said, taking a deep breath. She turned back to the photo. That photo confirmed everything.

  Wyre entered and headed straight to Gina. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

  ‘Certainly is. Now we need to figure out where he’s keeping her and where he is now. We need to get hold of him quick. We don’t even know if Deborah’s okay after everything she’s been through. I don’t know what I’ll tell her fa
mily if the outcome isn’t good.’ Gina adjusted her stab vest and turned away from Wyre.

  ‘We’ve obtained his current vehicle registration from the DVLA and we have officers on the lookout for his car. We’ll catch him,’ Wyre replied.

  ‘I know we will,’ said Gina. ‘I just hope it’s not too late for Deborah.’

  Jacob had stepped out to check on the rest of the flat, and now he popped his head back into the musty living room. ‘They’re bagging and tagging a few items in his bedroom but he seems to be a man of very few possessions. There really isn’t much, apart from a shoebox containing a pile of old photos. Looks like childhood portraits of him with his parents. He has no computer, no other electronic devices, hardly any clothes. It’s as if he’s just using this place as a cover and for the storage of random junk. We’ve checked the bin and there’s only takeaway leftovers in there. What you can smell is half a mouldy portion of fish and chips and what looks like a curry. He doesn’t have any bills or identification on the premises.’

  ‘Sounds about right. Looks like it is just a cover. Why he’s left a photo here is beyond me. Maybe he can’t bear to be anywhere without Deborah. He’s one dangerously devoted arse wipe,’ Gina replied as she walked away from the fireplace. ‘He’d been watching her for months at the school, after work, at the pub, even at home. He finally saw his opportunity on that cold winter night. He’d been prepared for a long time. He must have a van. I know there isn’t one registered to him, but... The night he left the pub, he must’ve used one then, leaving his car in view of the CCTV. He’d probably done that on many occasions, and his colleagues never noticed. He isn’t the life and soul of anything. He quietly comes and goes, tending to paperwork and his barrels in the cellar. He’s purposely invisible. The van had always been ready, as was his method of getting her into it, leaving only her shoe behind. He’d waited and waited for her to leave that night. Driving up and down, he waited for her colleagues to leave and, finally, he spotted Deborah. His patience had been rewarded. Deborah wasn’t the type of person who was often alone in the dark, but that night she was, and he was ready.’

  Wyre looked back at her from the kitchen area, nodding. ‘I think you’re right, gov.’

  ‘We’ll nail him,’ said Gina. ‘We need to get back to the station. Make sure everything’s bagged, tagged and loaded onto the van. We need to book these items into evidence and work on this like we’ve never worked before. I’m going to task Smith with cordoning off the flat. I need him to be here on sentry duty. If Wall turns up, I want him arrested immediately.’ Gina patted Jacob on the shoulder. ‘Right. We need to find out from O’Connor how the door-to-doors are going on the farms, and get out there ourselves. There’s still something in the red diesel clue. Call him now and get him to start looking for a possible connection to Jeff Wall and any local farms.’

  ‘He’s not in for another hour,’ Jacob replied as he looked at his watch.

  ‘Call him and tell him to come in earlier. We need all the resources we can get and O’Connor’s the one who’s been working on the farm leads. He’s the best person for this. Oh, and I look like crap, as do you. We need coffee. I’m exhausted and I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long day.’

  ‘Speak for yourself, guv, I always look good. You’re just trying to make yourself feel better.’ Jacob laughed. She knew full well he wouldn’t normally come out with uncombed hair, looking like he hadn’t washed and wearing crumpled clothes. Wyre, as usual, looked amazing. No one looked good in a stab vest, but Wyre somehow pulled it off. ‘How does she do it?’ Jacob asked, as they both stared at Wyre.

  ‘What are you both looking at?’ Wyre asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Jacob said, blushing. ‘We were just saying what an asset to the team you are.’ He cleared the tickle in his throat. ‘Excuse me. Damn cold.’

  ‘I see,’ she replied as she left the room, Jacob’s gaze following her all the way.

  ‘You like her, don’t you?’ said Gina.

  ‘She’d never give me a second look. Besides, it wouldn’t be professional, really, would it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Gina replied, as she felt her cheeks burning up. ‘Come on, Eros, back to the station. The other officers can continue with the collection of evidence. Today is going to be hell. I’m half hoping that O’Connor turns up with baked goodies, but my stab vest tells me I need to cut back. Now make that call to O’Connor and be prepared for a long day. I want Wall caught.’

  As they turned to leave, Gina spotted a tiny corner of laminated paper under the curtain. ‘Wait.’ She bent down and saw it was a driver’s licence. Staring at the photo, she felt there was something familiar in the features. The broken nose. Where had she seen this woman before? ‘I recognise this person. The woman we found in the river just after Deborah vanished, is this her?’ The woman in the photo had a crooked nose just like the woman they’d found in the river.

  ‘It looks a lot like her, from what I remember. She had a very distinct nose.’

  ‘We’ll need it verified, but it looks like we’ve identified our corpse. Nicoleta Iliescu. Romanian and young. Poor woman. We need to get the bastard now! I want him in custody yesterday.’

  Fifty

  Friday, 8 December 2017

  He whistled ‘You Are My Sunshine’ as he drove away from the farm and headed towards his flat. He only needed to pick up a few bits, but he had to be quick. Deborah would need breakfast soon. She was his fallen angel, just like Satan himself, there to deceive, trick and entice. He needed to cast her out permanently. There was no room for a rabid demon in his life. It would be hard giving up on the relationship, but it had come to an end.

  His mother had insisted that she wanted the old photos from his flat. It had been weeks since he’d been there and he couldn’t remember if he’d taken the bin out. Why she wanted the photos he had no idea, but she’d been going on and on about the past, refusing to allow him to sleep at night while she persistently rambled on about the good old days.

  His mother was a supposedly infertile woman who got lucky once and bore a son. A son she doted on her whole life, at the expense of any friendships. His father had died in his thirties, and after that she’d worked their asparagus farm just outside the Vale of Evesham with a few helpers, providing a living for her precious boy. Her boy would never go without. Her boy was her entire reason for being. Her boy could do no wrong.

  He knew he was a good boy, really. Deborah just hadn’t appreciated him, and now she would pay.

  He continued to whistle his tune until he passed a rabbit on the verge. The scared creature scurried away as soon as the headlights caught its line of sight. ‘Why? Why? I wouldn’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.’ As he pulled up at a junction, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel repeatedly. ‘I still sing your song. I loved you, but what do you do? You give me nothing. I hate you. I know Florence survived, but she is an extension of you. She will never be me, will she?’ He pummelled the steering wheel and the passenger seat. ‘You’re not my sunshine, you’re my morning gloom. My dark oppressor, like the skies above. Everything. I gave you everything.’ He punched the dashboard as hard as he could. ‘I hate you!’

  He drove with a face like thunder all the way to Cleevesford Village. As he crawled along the road behind the shops, he spotted a police car at the other end. He pulled up on Holland Street and turned off his ignition. ‘Why are you lot out at this time of the morning?’ he whispered.

  ‘They’re coming for you, son.’ His mother’s voice echoed through his mind.

  ‘Shut up. Shut up.’ He massaged his aching head.

  He turned his headlights off and stepped out of the car. He sniffed his fingers. The smell of petrol still lingered on his hand. He’d definitely wash and change before he saw Deborah. The last thing he needed was her having a crazy fit on him like the other day. And the time before that, she’d chipped his tooth with a cup.

  Holland Street was devoid of human activity. He looked at his watch; it was
just past six in the morning. A generator purred from one of the shops. He heard a loud thump as someone shouted. The words were unrecognisable from this distance. He continued walking along the back of the shops until he reached Primrose Lane.

  The three-storey terraced buildings blocked out the light. He crept towards the edge of the main road, peeked around the corner of the building and saw the police. His heart felt as though it were in his mouth. ‘Why are you in my flat?’ he whispered as he turned and walked away.

  He had to get back, decide what to do next. If they found him, they may eventually find the farm. What would happen to Mother if he had to leave quickly? Maybe she’d end up in a home. She was never going in a home, he wouldn’t allow it. He always knew what was best for her.

  He had to do something, but he didn’t have much time. They’d never understand the depth of his love and devotion for Deborah – no one would.

  Now that they’d fallen out and Deborah was in a mood, he had no idea what she’d say. He’d only chained her up because he wanted to keep her. He loved her so deeply, so passionately. She had to love him back. She’d given birth to their child. She stroked his hair on the nights when he was upset. She told him she loved him to outer space and back. He never hurt her, except when she attacked him first. Admittedly, she’d purposely angered him many times and he sometimes had to give her a scare, but she drove him to it.

  With shaky hands, he managed to get the keys in the ignition and drive away with his lights off, passing the Angel Arms and the Cleevesford junction before heading back along the country road to the farm. There was only one way out of all this. One way.

  Fifty-One

  Sweaty. She was sweaty but cold, then hot, then sticky and sick and tired – so tired. As she gave in to sleep, shapes danced in the darkness beyond the end of the bed. Was it a bed? She had dreamed that she was floating on a blanket, a magic blanket that Aladdin would use. One that took the traveller anywhere they desired to go. Debbie had chosen Andalusia in Spain, where her mother had once had a villa. She and Luke had gone there a few times before the children had come along. They’d enjoyed many a week alone as a new couple. The children would’ve loved it, but her mother had sold it before they were born. She had needed the money for her retirement.