Play Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller Book 4

by Angela Marsons

  After losing her real father at the age of five she and her mother had grown even closer. They had done everything together. Tracy had never even felt the effects of her friendless childhood because of the love and warmth from her mother. She had never felt as though she was lacking anything. Her mother was there for her every time the bullies chased her out of the school gates just so they could see her limp worsen when running.

  Her mother had stroked her hair and dried her tears and told her everything would be okay. And Tracy had believed her.

  Until Terry had moved in.

  Her mother had felt that Terry was a hero, taking on a child that was not his own. But Terry had taken on nothing. There were many things that Tracy could have shared with her mother about him, not least of which was the name-calling when the woman of the house was not around.

  It began just two weeks after he had moved in.

  ‘Mek me a cup of tay then, Peggy,’ he said and then laughed loudly.

  She had not understood. Who was Peggy?

  ‘Peggy, short for peg leg,’ he’d clarified and then laughed again.

  Humiliation had burned her cheeks and thickened her throat as she had stumbled blindly into the kitchen.

  He had managed to bring the ugliness into her home, her place of safety, and it was something that could never be undone.

  It became his name for her whenever her mother had left the house.

  Gradually she had retreated from their company and would head straight upstairs after school, keeping the jibes and humiliations of the day to herself. She would just tell them everything had been okay.

  She had moved out three days after her sixteenth birthday.

  Tracy knew now that had she chosen to walk through her mother’s door she would have been encased in a big warm hug as though she’d never been away. There would have been no reproach for her absence. No accusation for the weekly calls that weren’t always made. Her mother would have held her, loved her and, most importantly, forgiven her.

  And she’d left it too late.

  Her mother loved her. She knew that.

  She also knew that her mother was the only one. She had been abducted, plucked from her life and no one would even be missing her.

  The door banged above and startled her. She already knew that meant he was on his way.

  She almost cried out with the effort of not wetting herself. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.

  The door opened and she squeezed her legs together.

  He switched on the light and smiled. Tracy heard the whimper that escaped from her mouth.

  Never in her life had she felt so trapped. There were moments in her childhood that could come close, but even then she’d known she was a child and that some day she would have an element of control over her own destiny. Well here she was, all grown up, and she was as trapped as she had been back then.

  The knowledge lit a swirl of anger and injustice in Tracy’s stomach. She had promised herself that she would never be in that position again.

  ‘Now it’s time for tea,’ he said brightly.

  Tracy had no idea what time it was… but if it was time for tea she knew her hours were already numbered.

  Her eyes glanced across to the rocks. If only she could get her hands on one of those. She could bash it against his head and make a run for it. She didn’t know how far she could run, but he always left the door to the dark corridor open. At least she could try.

  He reached back into the hallway and used both hands to wheel in a trolley that was laden with a teapot, cups and plates of cakes.

  Tracy’s heart began to thump as he carefully placed the items one by one on the table. There was nothing she could use. Her right wrist was chained to the high chair, and she already knew she couldn’t get the momentum to move the chair itself.

  His smile was almost beatific as he arranged two plates side by side.

  ‘This is my favourite time of the day,’ he said as he poured tea into both of the cups. ‘I love it when we have our own little tea party. Just the two of us.’

  He looked around the shelves at the collection of dolls. ‘No, we won’t invite any of the others today. It’ll be just us, okay, sweetie?’

  Tracy said nothing even though her mind recoiled at his use of endearments. The thought of food brought a rolling nausea to her stomach even though she couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten.

  ‘Okay, let’s start with cake. Which one would you like?’

  Tracy was unable to move. The fear had deadened every muscle in her body, but her brain was coming alive.

  ‘Which one?’ he repeated.

  She swallowed and nodded towards the end plate.

  ‘Fondant fancy. Good choice.’

  He took two from the larger plate and placed them on each of the smaller plates.

  He put a plate before her.

  ‘One for you and one for me.’

  Maybe if she followed his instructions, did everything he wanted, he would let her go. Perhaps Jemima had angered him somehow. Perhaps she hadn’t eaten the cake.

  She put all her energy and focus on lifting the cake to her mouth. Her jaws were numbed by terror, but she managed to nibble the end.

  The dry sponge hit the arid desert that was her mouth and would go no further.

  ‘Are you not hungry, sweetie?’ he asked.

  Not knowing the right answer she shook her head.

  He nodded his understanding as the last bit of the cake disappeared into his mouth. ‘I think you need a cup of tea.’

  Suddenly she woke to the ridiculousness of her predicament. Why the hell was she going along with everything he told her to do? Her life was at stake here. He had kidnapped her, drugged her, imprisoned her and now he was feeding her. Here she sat like one of his stupid fucking dolls with a fresh clean face and clips in her hair.

  She paused as she managed to hold the thought. She had wire grips in her hair and one hand free. She had to stay present in her own mind long enough for those two thoughts to join up and become something useful.

  He placed the cup before her and added the milk.

  ‘Now be a good girl and drink your tea.’

  Tracy reached for the cup, remembering how he’d reacted the last time she’d refused. The trembling of her hand caused the chipped cup to clatter around the saucer.

  She remembered again how he had reacted when she’d refused to drink.

  She placed the cup back down in the saucer and gently shook her head.

  He sat up straight and frowned. ‘Tracy, please pick up your cup.’

  Again she shook her head.

  He put his own cup back on the table.

  ‘Tracy, I won’t ask you again. You have to drink the tea.’

  Her heart was beating rapidly, but she had to refuse. Again she shook her head.

  He stood and the plastic chair fell backwards behind him.

  He strode around the table and grabbed the cup from the tray. As he moved behind her she reached up and ripped the kirby grip from her hair. He grabbed a handful of her hair into a ponytail and yanked back her head.

  He positioned the cup above her mouth and began to tip it towards him. She was looking into his upside-down face, and she knew she had only one chance.

  The warm tea began to drip onto her lips, but this time he’d lost the element of surprise and her mouth remained closed.

  The liquid ran over her chin. He paused as he realised he had a problem. He could not hold on to her hair and the teacup and prise her mouth open.

  That second of confusion was all she’d been waiting for. She would have only one chance, and she had to make it count.

  She threw up her arm, her hand clenched around the clip.

  In her mind the motion was a snap, a whip, a thrust that took a nanosecond to execute. The actuality was like watching a slow-motion replay and all the will of her mind would not make her arm move quicker.

  He loosed her hair and deflected her attempt easil
y and the grip, along with her one chance at freedom, tumbled to the ground.

  He used his free hand to pinch her nostrils closed, meaning she had no choice but to open her mouth.

  ‘Here, let me,’ he said, lifting the cup to her lips.

  He turned the cup more and most of the drink shot in a torrent down her throat.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, smiling.

  Tracy knew she’d just been fed more of the drug he’d been using on her.

  Her instinct caused her to cough, but it was too late. The liquid had gone.

  He sighed and tipped his head. The regret didn’t reach his eyes.

  There she saw a coldness she had never experienced before. Her heart began to pump quickly, and yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  No one had ever looked at her with such concentrated hatred. It burned the colour into her cheeks.

  ‘Graham, I was the one that helped you,’ she blurted out. ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Of course I remember,’ he said. His face didn’t alter one bit. ‘But it wasn’t soon enough, was it?’

  Tracy felt the colour in her cheeks deepen with shame. He was right, and she knew it. Initially she had been just as curious as the others and damn it, for a few minutes had enjoyed the fact they’d been laughing at someone other than her. But then a sickness had worked its way into her stomach, and she had bolted for the door.

  She hadn’t wanted anyone to feel the way she did. But he was right – she should have gone for help sooner.

  ‘Graham, I’m sorry for…’

  He held up his hands to silence her. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway, Tracy. It’s now time for you to go.’

  And that was when she knew it was time to die.

  Eighty-Two

  As they entered the lane that stretched the last quarter mile to Westerley, Kim began to hope that her plan had worked.

  The press knew the procedure and the mass exodus of police vehicles would have signalled there was nothing else happening. There would be no further updates and no more bodies to be found.

  Reporters did not hang around when there was nothing more to be gained. They had either headed home or on to the next unfortunate story.

  Kim recalled the last time they had all been in her small car heading towards Westerley. It was difficult to believe it had been less than a week. The mood could not have been more different.

  ‘You guys ready for this?’ Kim asked as they approached the gate.

  They all sounded a positive response.

  The gate opened before Kim pressed the intercom. She groaned inwardly. Would they never learn? Just because they recognised the car approaching the CCTV camera was not a good enough reason to allow instant access.

  Kim stopped the car and all four doors opened at the same time.

  She couldn’t help but remember the red pickup truck that had been parked there earlier in the week. It had been nice to see Lola again.

  She strode towards the Portakabin and opened the door.

  Professor Wright and Catherine sat at the table and Jameel stood at the computer desk, telling her that he was the one who had let them in. She really would have a word about that later.

  Kim moved further into the space as her team filed in behind her. They fanned out to various points of the Portakabin.

  Kim looked to the professor, who was wringing his hands.

  She immediately noted the absence of the security guard. ‘Darren not here yet?’

  ‘He’s called in sick,’ Professor Wright answered, looking worried.

  Kim glanced at Bryant, who nodded and stepped back outside. A unit had been sent to Darren’s home after she’d learned of his visit to the hospital. When the constables had received no answer she had assumed he was on his way to work. They were not in a position right now to chase after him, but Bryant would instruct a squad car to keep trying.

  Catherine offered her a warm smile and a nod as she stood. She wore light jeans with an embroidered design and a pastel vest top. Kim was surprised to see that she had added a little make-up too.

  ‘May I get anyone a drink?’ she asked, looking round. ‘We have tea, coffee and bottles of Coke in the fridge.’

  Most of the team said no. Only Dawson said yes.

  A scent of flowery perfume wafted past her as Catherine reached behind her into the fridge.

  ‘Okay, I’m assuming Professor Wright has explained to you why we’re here.’

  Both Catherine and Jameel nodded in her direction.

  ‘Shortly, a backup vehicle containing a further five police officers is going to be parked up at the end of the lane should we need them.

  ‘I want Bryant and Professor Wright at the site where Louise was found. Catherine and I will be over at the recent site where Jemima and Isobel were found, and I want Kev and Jameel in the middle.’

  There was a simple logic in her plan and it all revolved around physical fitness. The professor was not as agile as his other staff members and so he was best placed at the most unlikely spot. Both Dawson and Jameel had youth and fitness on their side and could get to either of the two danger spots quickly if needed.

  ‘Stacey, I need you here keeping watch on the cameras and monitoring the radio.’

  Stacey nodded her understanding.

  ‘We will be using the on-site radio system so Stacey can keep a check on us all. She will also be our link to the backup team down the road. Keep your torches aimed at the ground and use them only when necessary. Once you reach your designated location turn them off.’

  Kim paused so that everyone could indicate they understood.

  ‘It is imperative that we do not separate from our partners. Jameel, Catherine, Professor, you are there to assist us with guidance of the site only. Under no circumstances are you to do anything that will jeopardise your own safety or the safety of anyone else.

  ‘If anything happens you get on the radio immediately and assistance will come. Do you understand?’

  Three voices said yes.

  ‘And finally I want a check call once you reach your designated location and every fifteen minutes thereafter. Got it?’

  They all voiced their understanding.

  She caught the brief look of doubt that shadowed Bryant’s expression as he nodded in her direction.

  She turned away, took a deep breath and offered a silent prayer.

  Tracy, for your sake, I hope I called this right.

  Eighty-Three

  Tracy heard the sound above. Again she was unsure how long ago he’d left her. The thought was floating around her head like a wind-torn kite and she just couldn’t grab its tail.

  The tea tray had been cleared away. She didn’t know when, and she didn’t need to wee any more, but she wasn’t wet, and she didn’t smell either.

  The door opened, and for a moment Tracy thought her eyes were deceiving her.

  The figure that stood before her looked… normal. The make-up and the pigtails were gone. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

  She had the fleeting thought that it wasn’t the same person at all. That this man was here to save her. She’d been found. She was being rescued.

  But then she saw the eyes. They were piercing and full of anger. The keys in his hand were being smacked against his other palm.

  ‘Come now, Tracy, it’s time for you to go.’

  Eighty-Four

  Bryant followed Professor Wright from the Portakabin into a pool of light from the one lamp to which the CCTV camera was affixed. An orange glow rained down and shone their way to the end of the gravel patch. The glow of the circle amongst the surrounding darkness reminded him of a dozen science-fiction films.

  Beyond the glare their path was lit by a moon that peeked occasionally from behind the gathering storm clouds.

  Bryant increased his speed to keep pace with the professor. For a portly man, he could move at speed.

  As they left the safety of the glowing circle the professor activated the torch and shone it to the
ground about five feet ahead. There was little point shining it directly ahead of the feet. If you were that late illuminating a hole in these fields you were going down. And in this place, you would not be alone.

  Bryant shuddered at the thought of it.

  He knew they were heading over to the area where Louise had been found. It was the furthest point west of the property and about three-quarters of a mile from where Jemima and Isobel had been dumped.

  He understood his boss’s reasons for the placement and wasn’t offended by it. Although he spent time on the rugby pitch, the balance of weekends that he did or did not was tipping towards less often.

  Dawson, on the other hand, visited the gym with a single-mindedness that he sometimes put into his work. Rain or shine, the guy kept his four-times-weekly commitment to keeping fit and healthy. And he was almost twenty years younger.

  Although seeing the pace at which the professor moved, Bryant wasn’t sure exactly where he would place his money in a sprint to the finish.

  ‘Some weather we’re having, eh?’ he asked to break the silence between them.

  ‘It is indeed, Sergeant,’ the professor answered without looking at him. ‘Condensation is forming in a volume of unstable air generating a deep, rapid, upward motion in the atmosphere. The heat energy is creating powerful rising air currents that swirl upwards.’ He slowed and shone the torch up towards the darkness and nodded. ‘There will be electrostatic discharge later, I would think.’

  ‘There’ll be what?’ he asked.

  ‘Lightning, Sergeant. It’s what happens between electrically charged regions of a cloud.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  Ask a professor a simple question, Bryant thought.

  ‘So how is it that you know the killer’s name but are unable to trace him?’ the professor said, asking a question of his own.

  Unlike the professor, Bryant had no dazzling, complicated, technical response. ‘He entered the system as Graham Studwick at eleven years of age. There is no record of Graham Studwick from that point on. He left the system as someone else.’