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

by Carla Kovach

  ‘We’re police detectives. DC Wyre and DI Harte. We need to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘We need to get in. She’s not moving.’ Gina pushed the door and heard it rattling against the lock. She rammed it with her shoulder, breaking the flimsy lock and almost falling into the hallway.

  She slid in her damp shoes along the tiled hallway, which was scattered with old, matted rugs, and entered the living room.

  The smell of excrement and urine hit them as they saw the woman. She was sitting stiffly in a chair, propped up by cushions. Gina almost heaved as she leaned over and checked the woman’s pulse. She was gone. Her eyes were drawn to the woman’s bloodshot eyes and the large mole on her cheek. A pillow lay in her lap. She thought of the woman struggling for breath as Wall held it over her face.

  ‘Call it in.’

  Wyre stepped out of the room to get a signal.

  Gina stared at the birdcage in the corner. A large, dead bird was lying on the bottom of the cage. Wrappers from sausage rolls and pies filled the other corner, next to the orthopaedic chair the woman was sitting in. Two settees and several wall units filled the room. One wall unit was crammed with porcelain dolls; the other was piled up with Royal Doulton. The tops of the units were stacked with old newspapers.

  ‘Deborah, Debbie, are you there? Just shout or bang,’ Gina called as she began walking around the house. Her heart pounded with every step. Was Wall behind a door, ready to pounce?

  As she reached the kitchen, Gina noticed the full ashtray on the worktop. A collection of straw hats spilled out of the cupboard doors. Clutter and cobwebs filled the room. She could just about make out that the work surface was pine underneath all the oddments and dust. It was strewn with money boxes, empty bottles and tins and more old newspapers.

  Gina darted up the stairs, careful not to touch anything. ‘DI Harte,’ she called as she reached the top. She was met by silence. All she could hear was the blood thundering through her veins. She quickly checked the four bedrooms and the old-fashioned avocado-coloured bathroom. Cobwebs, damp, mould and decay were all she could find. She ran back downstairs. ‘Clear,’ she called.

  ‘Backup is on the way,’ Wyre replied, meeting her in the hall.

  A scratching noise came from the back of the house. ‘I think there’s someone in the kitchen,’ Wyre whispered.

  The two detectives left the room and crept along the hallway. The scratching got louder and was followed by barking. ‘A dog,’ Wyre said. They hurried towards the back door and opened it. A black spaniel darted past them, wagging its tail.

  The cupboard door under the stairs blew open slightly as Wyre pushed the back door closed. Gina pulled her phone out of her pocket and used its torch to see. On an old bookshelf was a family portrait, a bit like the photos that were bagged from Wall’s flat. She picked up the photo and stared at the woman. She had a large mole on her cheek, and was standing next to a young boy who bore a striking similarity to Jeff Wall. Ms Benson was Wall’s mother. They’d been looking for someone going by the name of Wall. She’d never married Wall’s father.

  ‘Let’s check out the barn,’ Gina said, sprinting out of the house.

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for backup?’

  ‘We might not have that long. I’m going up there now.’

  Fifty-Four

  Four years had gone since he’d taken her and she still remembered that night like it was yesterday. ‘Please, don’t hurt me. Let me go. Let me go!’ Those had been her first words when she’d first set eyes on Jeff Wall after he’d taken her, all those years ago. Back then, she had no idea where she was. She’d been asleep. Her head had ached and she’d been possessed by an overwhelming thirst.

  She’d gone over it constantly, thinking of how she could’ve handled it differently, how she could have avoided becoming his prisoner. That day still seemed like yesterday; it never left her mind.

  * * *

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked, trying to swallow. He stared back at her, seemingly unsure of what to do next. When she moved, she felt the draw on her ankle from the chain that was imprisoning her.

  She remembered being the last to leave work after making up time. She had been walking through the industrial estate. It was dark and wet and Jeff had pulled over, offering her a lift in his van. She remembered politely declining – but what happened after that? One minute she was standing on the roadside, talking to him through his van window, the next, she was in some cold room, chained up by the man who worked at her local pub.

  He paced up and down, muttering words she couldn’t decipher. She knew him from the pub where she played pool. In fact, she’d been there only three nights before. They’d recently lost to the Spinster and she and Lottie thought it might be a good idea to get a bit more practice in. Jeff had always been a quiet man, never really socialised much. He managed the cellar, as far as she was aware, and covered paperwork duties, but he rarely worked the bar. Why had he taken her? Questions ran through her head. Was it some sort of revenge thing?

  ‘Has Samuel set you up to do this?’ she asked.

  He stopped pacing, turning to look her in the eye. He darted over to the bed and sat beside her. He leaned in and kissed the spot where he’d slapped her, before tracing her cheek with his trembling fingers. ‘I’m going to take good care of you. You are my love and I will do everything for you. That Samuel will never come near you again.’

  Tears ran down her face. ‘Jeff, I have to get home to my children. My family are expecting me. Please take this thing off me,’ she said as she lifted her ankle, revealing the chain.

  ‘You are home.’ He wrapped his arms around her body and breathed deeply into her neck. ‘I have waited so long for you to be here. So long. I kept you safe out there, and now I will keep you safe in here.’

  What did he mean? Had he been watching her? She’d never seen him around, apart from at the pub. There had been no warning of his feelings towards her. She’d never noticed any lingering looks.

  His hot breath on her neck made her shiver as he continued to speak. ‘For years, I watched you leaving work and getting home. I wanted to make sure you were safe, but it got too hard. I couldn’t be there all the time. The only way to make you safe was to bring you here. You will be safe forever. You are too precious to me.’

  Too precious. She barely knew the man, but apparently to him, she was everything. She was precious. And that meant he needed to trap her in some hellhole of a room.

  ‘Jeff, please, I have to go home. We won’t say any more about what has happened this evening. Just open the door and let me go,’ she spluttered.

  He drew back. Spit bubbles emerged from the gaps in his teeth as he exhaled. ‘I’ve done all this for you, so that we can be together, and this is how you repay me. Don’t you dare say a word about going home or I will make sure you never speak another word, ever. This is your home. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Jeff—’ Her sentence was cut off as he punched her hard in the face. Then he stood and marched towards the door, taking the oil lamp with him. The door closed and she was left in darkness, sobbing into the night, hoping that she’d soon get to leave. But it was only the beginning.

  * * *

  She gasped for air and opened her eyes. Something was jabbing into her back and tongue was furred. She grimaced as she realised she was in the boot of a car.

  Her hands were bound behind her back but her feet were loose. The car clunked as they went over a humpback bridge. A horn honked and the car jerked to the left and skidded a little.

  She stretched her legs out to try and brace herself against the side of the car. Where was he taking her? She reached for the object that was jabbing her in the back, felt its form with her fingertips. It was solid and thin and had a handle. A screwdriver. Her hands were bound with what felt like duct tape.

  The car turned sharply right and she let go of the screwdriver. Maybe she should try to kick the brake light out and shove her foot through. Someone had to see her. She brought her foot
out towards the corner of the car and kicked. As she stretched, the pain in her stomach and groin seared through her body. Sweat dripped down her face, trickling around her left ear. She kicked again and screamed. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her stomach burned. The light wasn’t budging.

  He took another turn and she felt the tyres bumping over a rough track. He was off the main road. Was he taking her to another rural location? She gasped and yelled as she kicked the light again. She reached around for the screwdriver, felt the handle and grabbed it. She had to get out. She had to hurt him, kill him, whatever it took. He was taking her to her end.

  She cried as she remembered begging him to end it. Thinking that Luke no longer wanted her and that her children may have already found her replacement had been too much to bear, but now the notion of an end seemed too final. No one would ever know what had happened to her. She might be on the missing persons register forever. And her baby, what would become of her baby? Would her mother look after her little one? Would she end up in care? She would never know her real mother.

  She sobbed as the pain intensified, but she battled through it. She managed to turn the screwdriver around and then inwards and began jabbing at the tape. As she gasped for breath in the dark box that was the boot, her vision began to blur. She needed to calm down, take a deep breath and think carefully, without panicking.

  The car rolled up on a gravelled surface. She held her breath and listened to the ducks quacking outside. They were by water. Why had he brought her to the water?

  The car door opened and then slammed. She heard each of his footsteps dig into the gravel as he whistled ‘You Are My Sunshine.’ Her heart almost stopped. She wanted to yell and scream, but instead she remained still. Was it best to pretend to still be drugged? Had he heard her crying?

  She lay there with closed eyes. Whatever he had planned, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He stopped whistling. She held her breath.

  Fifty-Five

  ‘We’re just at Gittins’ farm. The guy has carers in most of the day – he can barely get out of his chair,’ Jacob said on the other end of the phone.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anymore. You need to get to the Benson farm immediately. Julia Benson is Wall’s mother. We’ve called it in, she’s dead,’ Gina replied as she caught her breath and continued running along the bumpy path, towards the barn. ‘I’m just checking out the barn.’ A gust of wind howled through the bushes, propelling a twig towards Gina’s face. She moved to the side just as it passed her. An almighty storm was brewing.

  ‘Wait for backup to arrive.’

  ‘It’s okay, Wyre is here. Besides, there are fresh tyre tracks on the road, leading out. I think he’s gone out and Deborah might be in the barn. Just get here and make it snappy.’

  There was only one entrance to the barn: an old wooden door that was slightly ajar. There were no windows. Mature oak trees stood tall behind it, stretching their bare branches towards the shabby walls. The tip of a large birch looked like it was ready to burst the rain cloud above. Gina shivered as a bitter gust almost pushed her back.

  ‘What if they’re not his tyre tracks?’ said Wyre. ‘It could’ve been a post van. He could be in there now.’

  ‘More of a reason to get in there and get Deborah out. We can’t wait for the others. If anything happens to her and we could’ve prevented it, I’ll never forgive myself. You could wait here and let backup know where I am.’ Gina stared into Wyre’s anxious eyes and felt her own apprehension reflecting back at her. Wyre’s neatly pinned hair had escaped and was now blowing freely in the breeze. She wiped a thick strand from her mouth.

  Whatever was behind the door wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it may well be the answer to everything. Gina’s heart pounded in her chest as she felt the thinness of her coat and shirt against her breast. She had no stab vest for protection, no truncheon, no pepper spray, no Taser, nothing. It was her, Wyre and whatever situation was waiting behind the door. They were vulnerable, and they both knew it.

  ‘Wait here,’ Gina said.

  ‘And let you go in alone? No way. We’re in this together,’ Wyre shouted over the howling of the wind, taking the last few steps towards the barn.

  Gina slowed down and crept towards the door. She held her finger to her lips. ‘Don’t make a sound,’ she whispered. She held her ear to the door and listened for any sign of life. A further gust of wind caught the door and it flew open, revealing a metal staircase and a white van.

  Wyre gave Gina a glance as she pointed at the vehicle. Gina nodded. The large space behind the van and stairs was filled with tyres, an old dismantled tractor, water butts and a wall-to-wall workbench. General tools adorned the walls, providing plenty of things for spiders to spin their webs on. Gina spotted a petrol can on the floor and wondered if that particular can had been used by Wall to set fire to Luke’s house. The air was thick with the smell of damp. As Gina began the silent walk up the stairs, the stench of human waste hit her. She gagged and turned around. Wyre held her sleeve over her nose.

  ‘DI Harte and DC Wyre. We’re coming up the stairs,’ she called. She was tempted to walk on in silence, but something told her she needed to call out and listen for a reaction. If Deborah were there, maybe she would call out. Or maybe she’d startle Wall and his movement would reveal where he was. But there wasn’t a sound, apart from the creaking of the main door as it swung back and forth on its hinges. ‘I don’t think they’re here,’ Gina whispered. As the main door banged once more, a gust of wind billowed through the building. Gina grabbed the stair rail as the black spaniel bounded up the stairs, stopping to yap and wag its tail when it reached the top. She exhaled as she continued to the top of the stairs and looked right through the open door and into what she knew had been Deborah’s cell. She held her hand over her nose as she passed the small kitchenette and entered the dark, damp room.

  ‘Where’s that bastard taken her?’ she yelled as she kicked the doorframe. ‘Where’s he taken her?’

  She watched as Wyre continued along the corridor and checked out the other room. ‘There’s an old bathroom here, that’s all, and a cupboard,’ she said as she closed the door. The dog continued barking and jumping around Wyre as she walked.

  Gina stared at the filthy quilt and almost wept for Deborah. She removed her hand from her nose. The smell of urine overpowered her, but she didn’t cover her face this time. Deborah had endured the awful conditions and stench for years; she could endure it until the others arrived. She stepped over to the bed and gazed around the room. The only light came from the tiniest air vent, and as the breeze whipped up, it made a clicking noise. Next to the bed, a metal ring was fixed into the concrete floor. Gina shuddered as she thought of Deborah lying in the dirty bed, giving birth in the dirty bed and enduring whatever he forced upon her in the dirty bed. The coldness of the room was beginning to penetrate her clothing. She had no idea how Deborah had survived the winters.

  Gina wiped away a tear and exited the room. In the corner of the kitchenette was an open bag of dirty linen. Gina kneeled, catching the stench as she leaned forward. Amongst the mangled sheets were obvious clues that Deborah had given birth a few days ago. All the mess was displayed for her to see. He’d made no attempt to get rid of it. Was she even still alive? There was so much blood and dirt. Maybe he’d taken her body to dispose of her.

  ‘Why isn’t she here? I was so sure she’d be here,’ said Gina. Wyre stood behind her, mouth slightly open as she surveyed what was in front of them.

  Wyre pulled out her phone, and Gina listened as she relayed what they’d found and requested once again that they hurry. They needed a team, and quick. The dog nudged its head under Gina’s arm, seeking affection.

  Gina heard the sound of a siren approaching. ‘They’re here,’ she said as she stood. The dog jumped up onto its hind legs and rested its front paws on Gina’s waist. ‘I wish I knew what you’d seen,’ she said, as she gently lifted the dog’s paws and placed them back on the ground befo
re giving the spaniel a final pat on the head. ‘Where’s he taken her?’ He must have known somehow that they were coming. Maybe he’d popped back to his flat and seen the officers guarding his door. What would he do with Deborah? Her mind flashed back to Nicoleta Iliescu. She grabbed her phone and called Briggs. ‘We need to check the waterways for Wall now, and check the fisheries too. We found Nicoleta in the river. He’s probably heading towards water. He knows we’re on to him and he’s cornered.’

  Fifty-Six

  Was he making her wait on purpose, delighted at the thought of her increasing anxiety? He stopped whistling, and the sound of his lighter flipping open made her flinch. She was jolted a little as he sat on the boot, making the car bounce. She suppressed a cough as she inhaled the cigarette smoke that flooded through the crevices.

  ‘I gave you everything, but my all wasn’t enough. It was never enough.’ He slammed his hand on the boot. Debbie let out a scream. It was no use pretending to be out of it anymore. He knew she was awake. ‘Mother’s gone too, and guess whose fault it is? If only you’d kept your loud mouth shut. You killed Ma.’ He started gibbering to himself. ‘I know you forgive me, Ma. It’s just Debbie and I and little Florence now, but you won’t be alone for long. We’ll join you and we can all be together.’

  She frantically jabbed at the tape with the screwdriver, trying to ignore his ramblings. She flinched as the sharp tip pierced her back.