Play Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller Book 4

by Angela Marsons

  She had allowed her colleague in because there was no reason not to. It was a matter of trust.

  ‘We have a killer, and I need an idea of what I’m dealing with,’ Kim said.

  He nodded as he took his mug and headed out into the garden, which had changed very little since she was a child.

  The outside border was like the Chelsea flower show. A sunken fish pond was the star of the show beneath a water-dribbling stone mermaid.

  They each took a wooden chair around a circular table. Kim placed her back to the afternoon sun.

  ‘In this case we actually know who he is – or rather was. His name is Graham Studwick and he was born male, but his mother dressed and treated him as a girl until he was eleven years old. At which point he murdered her.’

  Ted showed little surprise. In his years as a psychologist there was little he had not seen.

  ‘Okay, how about the crimes?’

  ‘The first one occurred a few years ago. Her face was badly beaten and her mouth and throat filled with dirt. Likely to have been drugged and no evidence of sexual assault.’

  ‘You mention the first… so there is a second?’

  ‘The second victim was murdered this week, and she had the same injuries and dirt in the mouth. Also we have a third victim that didn’t die. He was disturbed before completing what looks like a ritual.’

  ‘You have a witness?’ he asked, sipping his coffee.

  ‘Without any memory of events,’ Bryant chipped in.

  ‘You have a history?’

  Kim sipped her coffee before answering. ‘All of these girls were involved in exposing his secret when he was six years old. He was held down and taunted before one of them ran away to get help.’

  Ted looked off into space and nodded. ‘So he’s never been able to forget the looks on their faces and the things they said. What he recalls is their disgust, which mirrors his own repulsion at himself.’

  ‘Our witness recalls the phrase one for you and one for me,’ Kim added.

  ‘Then it’s a game,’ he said emphatically.

  ‘It’s not much of a—’

  ‘Either that or some kind of recreation. But I’ll come back to that in a minute. Did either of you hear of the David Reimer case in Canada?’

  Kim shook her head, as did Bryant.

  ‘David Reimer was born in 1965. He and his twin brother underwent routine circumcision surgery at the age of six months. The surgery went wrong and David’s penis was irreparably damaged.’

  From the corner of her eye she saw Bryant cross his legs.

  ‘To cut a long story short the family was referred to a Doctor Money who used them to prove his theory that nurture over nature could define a person’s gender. He believed in a Gender Identity Gate, the point after which a child is locked into an identity as a male or female. He believed it to be between two and a half and three years of age.’

  ‘What happened?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Surgery for gender reassignment was carried out and he was raised as a girl.’

  ‘Alongside his twin brother?’ Kim asked.

  Ted nodded. ‘As the years passed, his natural instincts grew, as did his wish to do normal boy things. Money’s answer to the fears of the parents was to treat him even more like a girl.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Bryant whispered.

  ‘Exactly. Just imagine the confusion, the battles in his brain and his body.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Eventually his parents told him the truth. The surgery was reversed and he began to live life as a male.’

  ‘And he lived happily ever after?’ Kim asked, raising one eyebrow.

  ‘He committed suicide at the age of thirty-eight.’

  Bryant sat back in his chair.

  ‘By that time he couldn’t live in his own head. He didn’t know who or what he was any more.’

  ‘You said about a game, a re-enactment?’ Kim asked.

  ‘It sounds like a sacrifice, an offering. He could be trying to recreate episodes from his childhood. Games he played with his mother.’

  ‘But why all this if he hates her so much?’

  ‘Because he loves her too and possibly misses what they had together. There would have been times in his childhood that he felt happy. There might also have been times he was humiliated. There’s a great deal of conflict here, especially if he has not been helped in the right way. Bear in mind that he is unlikely to have felt disgust at himself until he saw it in someone else.’

  Kim nodded her understanding. ‘We think the girls have marks from being in a high chair, and they are always scrubbed clean.’

  ‘Tea party,’ Ted offered.

  ‘Oh shit, he’s treating them like dolls,’ Kim said as the realisation dawned.

  Ted nodded. ‘A dolls’ tea party is synonymous with the childhood of a little girl. One for me and one for you. It could be that it was his mother’s favourite game.’

  ‘He has another. The death has not been fulfilled.’

  ‘Then you’d better find her quickly – because just like any other game, eventually a child will get bored.’

  Kim suddenly had another thought. ‘How likely is he to change his ritual? I mean we have suspicions that there is another girl involved. Would he have two at the same time?’

  Ted scrunched up his face and then shook his head. ‘It would be highly unlikely if that’s not what he’s done in the past. This is not escalation, Kim. He’s not growing the crimes with each one. It seems far more likely that he insists on keeping the same routine with them all.’

  His answer took her thoughts right back to a girl named Mandy. Someone for whom she suspected they were too late. Forensics were still at Westerley, and it was beginning to look more likely there was something more there to find. If Ted was correct about routine then Mandy could be buried there too.

  Bryant sat forwards. ‘Are we definitely looking for a male?’

  ‘In physicality, probably. In appearance, it’s hard to say. There’s a chance he could present as a woman or a man. He may even switch between the two. Much depends on the help he got early on. Eleven years is a long time and every year of that time is formative.’

  Bryant nodded his thanks even though the answer had offered them nothing.

  The situation in which they found themselves was certainly unique to Kim.

  For once they knew their killer’s name – yet they still had no clue who it was.

  Seventy-Eight

  ‘Okay, guys, let’s get up to speed. I don’t think we have much time.’

  Kim’s mind whispered that it was Tracy who was running out of time.

  It was six p.m. on a Friday and the station was beginning to thin out. The shift was changing over, and the clerical staff had already said their goodbyes as they headed off for the weekend. Kim’s team should have been doing the same.

  ‘We know that Jemima was abducted on Saturday and dumped Sunday night, found by us Monday morning. Isobel was taken on Monday and dumped Tuesday night. He’s keeping them one night, so…’

  ‘Tracy was taken yesterday so will be dumped… tonight?’ Dawson asked.

  Kim nodded.

  ‘So, to clarify, we know that Louise Hickman, Jemima Lowe and Tracy Frost were all present when Graham Studwick was held down and taunted at school.’

  She turned to Stacey. ‘Anything on the name Mandy yet?’

  Stacey shook her head. ‘There were seven Mandys at Cornheath at that time. I’m working my way through ’em, boss, but so far they’re safe and accounted for.’

  ‘Okay, now we believe that while he has them he’s treating them like dolls and carrying out a re-enactment of a game he played with his mother… most likely some kind of tea party. He then takes them to Westerley, smashes their faces in and kills them by stuffing their mouths full of dirt.’

  ‘You think he’d be stupid enough to try and leave Tracy at Westerley?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘I think he has to leave her at Westerley,’ Kim said
. ‘Just like he left Isobel a couple of days after Jemima. And there’s a reason why. I just don’t know what it is yet.’

  ‘So what’s the plan, boss?’ Dawson asked.

  ‘We’re gonna be right there waiting for him,’ Kim said.

  Her whole team looked at her doubtfully, and she understood their concern. Only an idiot would risk the same location following the police presence on the property.

  But following their discussion with Ted, her instinct said that’s what Graham needed to do.

  She just hoped for Tracy’s sake she had called it right.

  ‘Time to go upstairs and…’

  Her words trailed away as her phone rang. It was a withheld number, but given the situation she decided to answer it.

  ‘Stone.’

  She stepped away from the mumbling amongst her team.

  ‘Inspector, it’s Jo… from the hospital.’

  Kim’s stomach reacted to the agitation in her voice.

  ‘Is Isobel okay?’ Kim asked quickly.

  The chatter around her stopped and six curious eyes turned her way.

  ‘Yes, Isobel is fine, but I thought it best to let you know about an incident we had earlier. There was a man who tried to get into the ward to see Isobel. He was refused entry, and he became quite forceful. He was banging and kicking at the doors. We had to call security to move him away from the doors. He was aggressive towards the officers and had to be physically removed from the building.’

  Kim felt the hairs on the back of her neck ping.

  ‘Jo, please tell me you managed to get a description,’ Kim said, holding her breath.

  ‘I got more than that, Inspector. He was big, burly and bald, and his name was Darren James.’

  Kim thanked Jo for her help and ended the call.

  She turned to her team. ‘Okay, guys, get yourselves together as quick as you can. We need to get to Westerley immediately.’

  They needed to find out why their security guard had tried to force entry into the ward.

  Seventy-Nine

  Kim didn’t hesitate when she heard the call to enter the office of the detective chief inspector. He stood to the right-hand side of his desk. The brown leather briefcase handle was encased in his hand.

  ‘Sir, I need all police and forensic activity withdrawn from Westerley,’ Kim said.

  He smiled. ‘Stone, what on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘I need them to stand down from the site.’

  Now he frowned. ‘That’s impossible. The ground search is nowhere near complete and after what you said about this Amanda…’

  ‘Mandy,’ she corrected.

  ‘Either way, we need to make absolutely sure there is nothing more to be found.’

  She nodded her understanding and took two steps closer to the desk. ‘I get that, but I need the area clear for tonight. The search can resume tomorrow.’

  He placed the briefcase on the floor and sat back down.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think our guy will attempt to dump Tracy Frost there tonight.’

  Now he laughed and she got worried.

  He shook his head. ‘Only a fool would be so bold. Are you thinking this killer has no access to television and newspapers?’

  ‘Sir, there is a reason he was bold enough to leave Isobel so soon after we found Jemima. We can’t track him any other way.’

  ‘You have his name?’ Woody said, as though she’d forgotten.

  ‘Graham Studwick no longer exists. He entered the system aged eleven after murdering his mother and doesn’t appear to have left again. Except we know he has, but as someone else. Knowing his name is a dead end. All we can use is his behaviour so far and up until now the site at Westerley means something to him.’

  He sat back in his chair.

  ‘Sir, I just want to make it as inviting as possible. The location is all we have.’

  He nodded his understanding and picked up his pen. ‘Okay, what do you need?’

  She’d thought the first part would be easy. She was coming to the part where she expected a fight.

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I need to do this with as few people as possible. It will just be my team and members of Westerley staff.’

  He was shaking his head before she finished the sentence. ‘Not a chance, Stone. Firstly I will not have you endangering your own team to that degree and the staff there are civilians. If anything should happen to any one of those people…’

  ‘I do understand that, but I need them for their knowledge of the site. I need to cover two or three areas, and I can only do it with their help.’

  He rubbed at his chin for a few seconds.

  ‘Sir, I do believe this is our only chance to stop him and to save the life of Tracy Frost.’

  ‘You really believe he’ll come back?’

  She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, I do.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘Okay, but I want a team positioned no more than half a mile away and you will maintain radio contact at all times.’

  ‘I need to—’

  ‘I can add more restrictions if you say one more word.’

  She quickly closed her mouth.

  ‘If the safety of those people is compromised for even one minute you stand down. Do you understand?’

  And fuck Tracy Frost, she thought.

  And if anyone had told her a few days ago she’d feel so passionately about ensuring this woman’s safety she would have laughed in their faces. Tracy had unveiled a great deal of herself this week without even realising it.

  Like Kim’s own life, the existence Tracy had made for herself didn’t count for much in the opinion of others. They both had a job into which they poured everything they had. Neither of them were married or had children… but whatever Tracy’s life was, it was hers and Kim was determined to bring her back to it.

  In her logical mind she knew that wasn’t what her boss had meant. He didn’t want anything to happen to Tracy Frost, but it was always a case of safety by numbers. If one had to be sacrificed to save more then that was the equation you chose.

  Only problem was, Kim had never been any good at maths.

  Eighty

  Oh, Mummy, it’s my very favourite part of the day. I love teatime soooooo much, and I know you did too.

  I would choose the dolls to come to our tea parties. I would get them all clean and ready, and you would prepare the food.

  Didn’t we have such lovely cakes for tea. You would sometimes try new ones for a treat, but there were some that always stayed the same.

  Now and again in the summertime we had jelly and ice cream. We laughed at the wobble as you took it from the fridge. I would touch it with my fingertip to see if it bounced back. And if it did it was ready.

  Do you remember when I lied, Mummy? I said it was done, and it wasn’t, but I was impatient for the strawberry flavour that made my mouth water as you opened the fridge door.

  You put a spoon into the dish to divide up the portion. Instead of dancing in the bowl when it landed it splodged and splashed all over the counter. I held my breath, so sure you would be angry with me. But you weren’t. You laughed as the mess disappeared beneath a handful of kitchen roll. Of course you laughed. We were playing your favourite game.

  I love every part of playing with my friends, Mummy, but this is the part I like the best.

  It’s just so sad when they have to go. But they do have to go, Mummy. Just like you had to go. I loved you, but I hated you. I loved our life together when it was just us, but you let the rest of the world in. Until then I was just your best little girl.

  We tried to block them out again, didn’t we? We tried to return to our own little world, just the two of us.

  You pretended that one day at school never happened. And so did I.

  You gave me books to read and exercises to do and everything went back to how it had been before. Almost.

  The faces and laughter still haunted my dreams, but at least I had you.

  Unt
il my body began to change. There were areas I wanted to touch, explore, understand, but I didn’t, because I knew you would know.

  But the hormones you fed me could only prevent so much.

  I called you the morning it happened.

  My willy had leaked in the night, and I didn’t know if it was broken.

  The look on your face broke my heart. The years in between fell away as I watched your face crumple with disgust. I was back on the floor looking up at my tormentors.

  I moved towards you, and you moved away, sending daggers into my soul. You didn’t want to touch me, as though I was infected. I suppose to you I was. But my only affliction was being a boy.

  All day you looked at me accusingly. As though adolescence was somehow my fault. And with every passing moment the child disappeared and an angry young man emerged.

  Suddenly I had nowhere to belong, and I was no longer your little girl.

  That expression could never be undone. Your betrayal was worse than theirs, Mummy.

  Because you had made me this way.

  And so, just like the rest, you had to die.

  Eighty-One

  Tracy knew she couldn’t hold herself much longer. The half glasses of milk throughout the day were now backing up and filling her bladder.

  She knew those innocuous little drinks contained whatever he was using to drug her. It had been a while since the last one and so the thoughts seemed clearer in her head. Easier to hold on to.

  She squirmed in her seat uncomfortably, terrified the urine would come out of her.

  She had no clue how much time had passed since he had last been in the room, gently bathing her. And she had no idea what was to come next.

  She was sure she had been sliding in and out of consciousness. Her mother’s face had drifted in and out of her mind. Always smiling, always welcoming.

  Tracy felt a pang of regret course through her that translated to physical pain somewhere in her chest area. She had allowed a stranger to destroy the bond they’d once had.

  She had never liked her stepfather, and he had never liked her. She wasn’t sure which of those facts had been made evident first. They had tolerated each other for the sake of her mother.