Last Light: An absolutely gripping thriller with unputdownable suspense

by Helen Phifer

  He had the back door key clutched in the damp palm of his left hand and hoped that the tight-fisted git hadn’t changed the locks. The front door was the same as when he was last here, so he very much doubted it. He went around to the back where the rotted wooden gate was pushed shut but not latched. He opened it enough to squeeze through and was in the back garden. The kitchen and living room windows were all in darkness, too; just to make sure he crept along from the side and peeped inside. The last time he’d done this his father had been having sex with that cheap whore he brought home when he was drunk. He wondered where she was, and if she’d ever let him fuck her again after that night he’d hit her and got himself arrested. Not that he cared about her; she was nothing compared to the woman his mother had been – he missed her so much. Reaching the back door, he was relieved to see it was the same one, although it wouldn’t have mattered if it wasn’t. He’d spent the last four years thinking about this moment and nothing was going to stop him: he would have found a way to get inside one way or another. Pushing the key into the Yale lock, he turned it, holding his breath. Then he pushed it open and stepped inside.

  His nose wrinkled at the stench: it was vile and smelt as if someone had already died in here weeks ago. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he blinked a couple of times and pulled on the black leather gloves he’d stolen along with his boots from the charity shop. The worktops were covered in stacks of filthy pots and takeaway cartons. The table was covered in empty bottles of vodka and whisky, so he’d really lost it. He was nothing more than a sad, lonely alcoholic. His feet remembering the way led him to the stairs, where he listened for any movement. A loud snore filled the air, but it didn’t come from the direction of the bedrooms. He turned to the living room, where the door was open and he could make out his dad’s figure slumped in the armchair in the corner. A smile spread across his face, this was even better than he could have hoped for. He stared at the heavy maroon bible on the sideboard – he still kept it there after all this time. He wondered if he bothered to read it anymore; Vincent had long stopped bothering with him after his abusive tirades outside the vicarage when he was stopping there. Taking it from its resting place he felt the weight, passing it from one hand to the other. It should be enough to do some serious damage. What would you call it? Divine retribution?

  Then he stepped inside.

  The first blow stunned the man, whose eyes fluttered open, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Not hesitating for a second, he lifted the book and brought the spine of it crashing down onto the bridge of his nose. The hot spray of fresh blood covered his hands, as a low groan came from the man in the chair as his hands flew to his nose. Before he could push himself to his feet he hit him again and again. Dragging him from the chair and throwing him to the floor, he began to kick him with the heavy Dr Martens he’d stolen especially for this moment. When his dad was a bloodied pulp he leant down and shook him hard to make him listen.

  ‘Long time no see, eh Dad? You must have known this day was coming. How long have you been waiting for me? Sitting in this chair by yourself, day after day. Drinking yourself to death. I hope it’s been a fucking long time, you piece of shit. Where’s your God to save you now? I don’t see you quoting the Bible; let’s see, what was your favourite line? Ah, yes, I know now. Should I remind you and you can repeat it after me?’

  The bleeding, semi-conscious man let out a small whimper, and he laughed.

  ‘Funny how you don’t seem to be enjoying it now the tables have turned. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” Isn’t that right, isn’t that what you used to shout at my mum when she was lying on the floor, bruised and bleeding, afraid of you? I’ll give you one more chance. What happens if we confess our sins? You know confession is good for the soul, don’t you?’

  The man groaned, making no attempt to repeat the words. He knelt on the floor next to him, then lifting the blood-soaked bible as high as he could, he brought it down onto his windpipe, crushing it. Leaving the bible on his chest he stood up, watching to see if his chest would continue to rise and fall. It didn’t and for the first time in a very long time he felt as if he’d satisfied the burning desire that had been eating away at him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Armed with several photos of Sandy Kilburn, Lucy drove to the church hall and parked on the street opposite, where she could watch the comings and goings. She would have to come back later on to speak to the volunteers who helped run Street Saviours, which she’d learned was on tonight. For now, she was content enough to speak to David and his wife Jan again, show them the pictures and see if it jogged any memories. What she desperately wanted was for him to show her some kind of reaction. That was why she’d picked the post-mortem photos to show him, see if there was any shock, remorse, a flicker of recognition, anything. Mattie had stayed behind to catch up on his paperwork before finishing up for his holiday, though she could have brought someone else with her. When she’d looked around the office there’d been only Browning and Rachel, both of them managing to look busy and not in her direction. She’d rather be on her own anyway, it gave her time to think. As she got out of the car she heard her name being called and looked across the road to see Jan Collins walking towards her with an M&S carrier bag in her hand.

  ‘Are you coming to speak to us, Detective?’

  She crossed the road towards the woman who seemed a bit friendlier today.

  ‘Yes, is David in?’

  Jan shook her head. ‘No, he’s out visiting parishioners. You can come in and talk to me though, I might be able to help you.’

  Lucy followed the woman the short distance to the vicarage and waited for her to open the front door then followed her inside.

  ‘I like your car, I always wanted one of those. I love that green colour, it’s so pretty.’

  ‘Didn’t you get one?’

  ‘No, David said it wouldn’t look very good turning up to funerals in a car that looked like a huge spearmint. I told him not to be so bloody ridiculous. I mean you turn up at all sorts of horrible things in it right? Has anyone ever commented that it’s inappropriate to you?’

  ‘No, to be honest it’s not something I’ve ever thought about before. The colour of my car doesn’t stop me from being a professional and doing my job. In fact it has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘That’s what I told him, but he wouldn’t have it. He’s full of what he thinks is right, but sometimes he doesn’t know shit. Listen to me going on, when you must be really busy. What did you want?’

  Lucy couldn’t help wondering why the woman was much more amiable now than her previous visit, then thought that it might be because her husband wasn’t here. She wanted to ask her about David but didn’t want to put her in a bad mood. However, she needed to know if she knew Sandy Kilburn.

  Jan, who had been busy packing away her purchases into the fridge and cupboards, turned to face Lucy, her face serious.

  ‘I just needed to ask you if you knew or recognised this woman.’ She passed her a picture of a living and breathing Sandy Kilburn which Col had taken off Facebook.

  She took it, studying it for some time then shook her head. ‘No, sorry. I can’t say that I recognise her. Should I?’

  ‘Not really, I was hoping she might have been a volunteer at the church or a parishioner.’

  Jan glanced down at it again then passed it back, shaking her head. ‘Sorry I can’t help you, but David might know of her. You can ask him later; he’ll be back for his tea about six.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll do that. What time does the street helper’s thing start?’

  She laughed. ‘You mean Street Saviours? We normally meet in the hall between ten and eleven on the night it’s open, get the tea urns on and the grill hot for the bacon. It’s quite an entertaining night if you can put up with drunks and the chance they might be sick on you. I didn’t think it was going to work at first and I told Dav
id that, but he didn’t listen. He never does, always thinks he knows best. Well this time he was right; the first few times we had the odd person. Now it gets quite busy. If you’re not doing anything we could do with some extra volunteers to help out. Especially now we’re down a volunteer. Poor Margaret was such a good help, so kind to the drunks and patient with them. I did ask David if we shouldn’t open this week, you know as a mark of respect to Margaret. Do you know what his answer was? He said that we owed it to Margaret to carry on, it’s what she would have wanted.’

  Lucy tried not to grimace. She couldn’t think of anything worse than volunteering for Street Saviours. It was bad enough dealing with the aftermath of the pissed-up arguments and domestics on a Sunday morning and getting paid for it. There was no chance she’d do it for free on her nights off. Her spare time was very precious, not to mention she was in the middle of two massive murder cases. She also had a feeling Margaret wouldn’t give a shit whether they opened or not.

  ‘I can’t, it would be too much with work. Sorry, did Margaret help out a lot then?’

  ‘She did, bless her, in fact she loved it. She had a bit of a soft spot for the young lasses who’d get so drunk they couldn’t tell you their names or where they lived to get them a taxi home. She’d sit with them, hold their hands and talk to them.’ Her eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away.

  ‘Sorry to have upset you. I’ll leave you to it. I need to speak to David. Can you ask him to call me when he gets in? I can always nip back and then that’s another box ticked off my list.’

  ‘I will.’

  Lucy handed her a business card.

  She walked back to her car wondering if she should leave it and speak to him later on. Jan didn’t seem as angry when she was on her own, maybe she was being protective of her man when they were together. This made Lucy smile to herself as she got back into her car. She’d never thought that it might not be appropriate when she turned up at crime scenes in her little Fiat, who even thought like that? Lucy was gutted that tonight was Mattie’s last shift before his holidays. She was going to have to ask Browning to help her out more, but she wasn’t going to take him to the church hall tonight; she wanted to speak to David there and put him on the spot – just to let him know she was wanting to speak to him, to make him sweat a little. She didn’t need Browning, and neither did she want him complaining about not getting paid for working overtime and huffing and chuffing at the drunks.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ellie knocked on the door to the semi and smiled as she heard a loud screech from inside and pounding footsteps come running towards it. The door opened and Bella grinned at her. ‘I thought you were never coming; Mamma is in the shower. Daddy is coming now.’

  ‘Bella, who’s at the door? You know never to open it unless someone is with you, what have we told you about talking to strangers?’

  ‘It’s okay, it’s Ellie. She’s babysitting me so that doesn’t count because I know her and she’s my friend.’

  The door opened wide, and the dark-haired, handsome guy who Ellie assumed was Bella’s dad smiled at her.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming, Nat forgot to tell me. Please come in. I’m Tony and you are?’

  He held his hand out, and feeling stupid she took it and shook it.

  ‘Ellie, I said I’d babysit while Natalia helped out at the church tonight.’

  A dark frown crossed his face. ‘She never said she was going there tonight, I’m sorry. I have to go, but make yourself at home. Phone numbers for us both are on the fridge if you need them. Good luck with this one, she’ll talk your head off all night. When your ears are aching send her to bed.’ He bent down, kissing his daughter on the forehead.

  ‘Be a good girl for Ellie.’

  He went out of the front door, and Bella grabbed her hand, pulling her along to the living room where it looked like a toy shop had exploded all over the floor.

  Natalia came down and smiled to see the teenage girl playing Barbies with her daughter.

  ‘I’m sorry, she was so excited you were coming I had to say she could stay up for an hour. I hope you didn’t mind?’

  ‘Course not. Oh Natalia, my mum, who is always on duty and never gives it a rest, wants you to have her phone number, in case there’s a problem and you can’t get home or something.’ Ellie stood up and dug out the scrap of paper she’d written her mum’s number on.

  Smiling, Natalia took it from her and pushed it into her pocket.

  ‘What do you mean she’s always on duty?’

  ‘She’s a police detective; when she’s not at work she still thinks she is. She’s crazy about catching the bad guys. Sometimes, well actually all the time, she’s a bit overprotective.’

  ‘I never knew that she worked for the police, what an exciting job she must have. I think if I saw what your mum saw I would be the same. I’ll probably be like that when Bella’s older anyway. No matter how old your kids get, you’ll always be our kids and we have the right to drive you mad. Your mum sounds like a very wise woman.’

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Yeah, don’t let her hear you say that. She’s always telling me she knows better, and I should listen to her more.’

  ‘Where is she tonight?’

  ‘Dunno, probably at work. She works late all the time, that’s why my dad got so fed up with her and left.’

  Realising she’d probably said far too much, she shut up; if her mum found out she was telling her private business to anyone she’d go mad.

  Natalia smiled. ‘There are plenty of snacks in the kitchen and there’s a huge dish of lasagne if you’re hungry in the fridge. The downside to owning an Italian restaurant is that you eat Italian leftovers for ever. It’s not good to your waistline when you have a passion for pasta.’ She laughed and patted her slender tummy.

  ‘I’ll be home by midnight, I’m tired tonight. I said I’d help for a couple of hours because they’re a bit short of volunteers. Any problems ring me. Bella, bed by nine, you have to do what Ellie tells you, okay?’

  Bella nodded. ‘Yes, Mamma.’

  ‘Good girl. See you both later.’

  The front door closed, and Bella stared at Ellie. ‘I’m hungry, can we have some nachos?’

  ‘You can have what you want, kid, if it’s in the cupboard.’

  They went into the kitchen and began to prepare a huge dish of nachos; Bella poured the salsa and almost a whole packet of mozzarella onto the tortilla chips. Ellie decided that babysitting for a kid with such good taste in junk food might just be the best job in the whole of Brooklyn Bay.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  By the time Lucy got back to the station Mattie had long gone and she felt more than a little envious that he was going to be doing nothing more than lie on a golden beach soaking up the sun. She was going to book a holiday for her and Ellie as soon as she had this killer in custody, a break would do them both good. Forget about horrific murders, cheating husbands and how her life had turned to shit overnight.

  Browning, despite his grumpiness and reluctance to do anything at more than a snail’s pace, was still at his desk. He looked up at her. ‘It’s like a sinking ship in here today, there’s only us two left. Do you need anything doing, Lucy, or are you going to call it a day?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything now; did the PCSOs finish the house-to-house enquiries around Basterfield House do you know?’

  ‘They did and believe it or not nobody heard anything. There are a couple of houses with private CCTV systems, and they’ve been checked for footage. They only cover the front of the properties but there’s nothing of any note on them either.’

  ‘One day in the not-too-distant future, we’ll get a break. Someone will have a camera which captures the whole, terrible thing in glorious technicolour with the assailant’s face as clear as day on it.’

  He laughed. ‘One day we will, not sure which year though so don’t go holding your breath. I see the golden boy is off to Greece, lucky bugger.�
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  Lucy nodded. ‘He is indeed. I think I’m going to call it a day, you should too. I’m hoping to bring David Collins in tomorrow, so it might be a long day.’

  ‘The vicar?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Makes sense, religious murders; who else is there to blame but the vicar?’ He winked at her.

  ‘It’s a start, have you met him?’

  ‘Not had that pleasure yet.’

  ‘That gives you something to look forward to tomorrow then.’

  She went into her office to get the file she’d copied. Ellie was babysitting then sleeping at George’s. That meant she could sit down with a glass of wine, finish the left-over pizza, study the case files up to now and have a snooze until it was time to go back out and question the volunteers at the church hall about Sandy.

  * * *

  Lucy groaned when her alarm finally penetrated the deep sleep she was in. Turning it off she wondered if she shouldn’t just leave it until tomorrow. Get a list of the volunteers and go and interview them at home. Pulling the fluffy throw up to her chin, she’d almost talked herself into it, when she realised that it would waste hours trying to chase them up. She had no idea where they lived, if they worked, or what the hell they got up to in their own time. It would be far easier to speak to as many as possible tonight and then, fingers crossed, there would only be a few to follow up on tomorrow. Her eyes opened wide, and she pushed herself up off the sofa. Picking up the plate and empty wine glass off the coffee table she took them in the kitchen and went upstairs to freshen up.