Play Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller Book 4

by Angela Marsons

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Catherine raged. ‘It’s different. I was a child and…’

  ‘But even as an adult you were terrified when you thought they might come and get you again. I was there, Catherine. I saw you in that box. I helped you out. That fear was real.’

  ‘Of course it was real. It’s always been real. While those bastards were still alive, I lived with the fear,’ Catherine said, as a bolt of lightning thundered past them.

  ‘You think that’s any less real to the women Graham has taken? And you’ve helped him. I don’t understand, Catherine. Two women are dead because of the two of you. How could you do that?’

  There was no hesitation in Catherine’s voice and no remorse as the lightning lit up her expression.

  ‘Because we had an agreement. That we would help each other.’

  ‘But your captors were never…’ Her sentence was left dangling between them as Kim remembered one crucial detail of their conversation at Catherine’s house. The woman had forgotten herself in her fear and admitted to being terrified that ‘he’ was coming back. There had been two tormentors involved in her capture and abuse – but her use of the singular showed that she had known that one of them was already dead.

  ‘It was Ivor and Larry, wasn’t it? They were the two that molested you. The change in you is nothing to do with being able to carry on working at Westerley. It’s because your second abuser is now dead. He was released from prison two weeks ago. You’ve both been waiting all this time?’

  ‘Those two bastards took my life,’ she spat. ‘You can’t even imagine what those fucking pigs did to me. I smell their foul, toxic breath every night; hear their perverted whispers in my ear. One after the other after the other, passed around like the bottles of whisky they shared.

  ‘They took my childhood and my family. I could never go back to my life. By the time I was able to leave Bromley I didn’t even know my parents, and they didn’t know me.

  ‘The terror they caused took over my body like a cancer. It was everywhere. There was never a choice, Inspector. For me to live, they had to die.’

  Kim heard the raw emotion in her voice. Despite what Catherine believed, she would never be free of those men.

  The raindrops were becoming more frequent now. The ground around them offered a cloying smell as the rain hit the dry earth.

  ‘My life begins now, Inspector. Tonight I can live again.’

  ‘Graham killed them, didn’t he?’ Kim asked, the realisation hitting her. ‘That was the deal. You would help each other and that’s how he helped you?’

  Kim knew she couldn’t call out. Any sound from her and Graham would be gone and Tracy with him. Without the link to Westerley she would never find him again. He was like a cat bringing home a mauled mouse to its owner. Without the tie to Catherine she had nothing.

  Kim was struck by a sudden thought as a raindrop landed on her cheek.

  ‘But if you’re partners why didn’t you warn him not to come?’

  ‘Ooops,’ she said.

  ‘Jesus, you want him caught, don’t you?’ Kim said, aghast at the woman’s duplicity. Graham had taken the lives of the men who had abducted and abused her, but now they were dead, Catherine wanted him gone. His purpose was complete and only two people knew the truth about her involvement with Graham.

  With Graham safely caught and behind bars, that left only one person.

  Kim.

  The icy coldness of the woman before her chilled Kim to the bone.

  Suddenly the radio hit Kim in the left temple. She tried to stay upright but she stumbled to the side.

  It was the only advantage Catherine needed to push her to the ground.

  Kim kicked out as Catherine threw her onto her stomach. Within seconds, her hands were tied behind her back. She kicked out again, but Catherine avoided her feet easily.

  Catherine dragged her around by the hair, and she felt the plastic bouquet wrapper crunch beneath her back. The brittle stems splintered beneath and cut into her exposed skin. The thorns pricked at her skin. The grass was damp against her flesh.

  Kim bucked against the tree, but with her hands tied she couldn’t get very far. The wood of the tree grazed the back of her hand.

  ‘You know you’re not going to tie every loose end up neatly, don’t you?’ Kim asked, playing for time as an idea began to form. She moved the plastic away from her behind and could feel the stems of the flowers beneath her.

  Kim pulled her hands as far apart as she could and started to move her joined wrists up and down against the bark. The gnarly old tree might shred her skin in the process, but she couldn’t wait for help to arrive.

  ‘By my reckoning we have at least twelve minutes until the first check call, and it’s not going to take long to arrange your little accident.’

  Kim’s blood ran cold at the absence of emotion attached to the words. If Catherine could arrange a fatal accident and then use the radio to call for help, Graham would be caught and all her loose ends would be neatly tied up.

  Catherine’s voice was calm and measured. ‘I suspect you’re going to fall in with Jack or Vera and break your neck when you fall. If not, Graham always carries a knife.’

  The coolness of her speech filled Kim with dread. Her death was nothing more than a means to an end. A way for Catherine to facilitate moving on with the rest of her life – and she couldn’t do that with Kim knowing the truth about her.

  Kim heard a long sigh come from Catherine.

  ‘Thank goodness. He’s almost here.’

  Kim knew if her hands were still bound by the time Graham reached them, she was dead.

  She shook the wet fringe from her eyes and began to rub her wrists faster against the bark.

  Eighty-Nine

  Tracy felt herself being bounced around in the back of the van.

  Minutes ago the ride had quietened, and the van had slowed down. The tyres were hitting bumps in the road, but she was no longer being launched around. The movement was rocking her to and fro.

  The thought of sleep was tempting. In her haze, there was the possibility she would wake up not in this nightmare.

  But she knew she couldn’t sleep. Perhaps Jemima had slept. Tracy’s mind was clearer than earlier, but her body still felt deadened.

  She vaguely remembered stumbling down from the high chair and not having the strength to get back up. He had helped her to her feet and guided her into the van.

  And she’d been grateful for his help. A rage like adrenaline shot around her body. Fucking grateful to the man who had abducted her and was now going to kill her.

  The very notion evicted any thought of sleep from her mind. These could be the last few minutes of her life. Tracy was determined that if she was going to go it wouldn’t be without a fight.

  She had to be ready for any opportunity, ready to do what she could. If nothing else, she was not going to go quietly. Damn it, she had fought her whole bloody life. There had been moments where death had seemed favourable to life, but she had fought the feelings one moment at a time, convincing herself that eventually things would get better.

  She had fought the crucifying demons of self-doubt that had never left her and focussed on her dream of journalism, determined that she would not be ruled by her past.

  No, Tracy resolved, she had not fought every inch of her life to be snuffed out by some psycho loser now.

  The bravado stayed with her for a whole thirty seconds. Right until the car came to a halt.

  Ninety

  Kim knew the wire was weakening against the gnarly bark.

  She had slashed the skin at her wrists in the process, but she could feel the wire beginning to give. Another few seconds and she’d have her hands free.

  But she didn’t have a few seconds left, as Catherine yanked her to her feet.

  Her left foot slipped on the mud as a clap of thunder sounded overhead. The raindrops were still slow but were much bigger. Round, heavy spots were landing all over her.

 
In her effort to keep Kim upright Catherine could no longer hold the torch. It tumbled from her hand.

  Kim launched herself from the grip and threw herself to the ground. The torch would at least offer her some kind of weapon.

  She landed on top of the torch, which dug into her breastbone. Catherine kicked her in the ribs. She coughed but stayed where she was. She would not give up the torch easily.

  With her body obscuring the light she had been plunged into total darkness. The damp grass found every inch of her skin through the thin T-shirt. A brittle flower stem dug into her hip and her wrists were on fire, but she could not give up the torch.

  A streak of lightning tore across the sky giving them both a clear view of each other. Catherine used the vision to land another kick, which caught her left breast.

  Kim groaned out loud as the pain travelled around her torso.

  ‘Give it up, Inspector,’ Catherine hissed.

  Not on your fucking life, Kim thought.

  She frantically strained her shoulders pulling at the weakened wire. It was her only chance to stay alive.

  The torch was now lodged in her stomach, her arms still tied behind her and her neck craned back away from the sopping mud.

  Another kick – this time to her hip. The pain shot straight to her brain and then reverberated back. She was losing track of the pain sites around her body, but she couldn’t think about that now. If she couldn’t get her hands free she was going to die.

  She pulled again at the ties. She felt Catherine’s hand on her hip. Fuck, she was being rolled over onto her back.

  As she turned she felt the ground disappear. There was nothing beneath her legs and nothing beneath her shoulders.

  She tried to visualise it in the light of her memory. Damn it, she’d been rolled onto the bridge between the two graves. Beneath her legs was rotting Vera and beneath her shoulders was rotting Jack.

  If Catherine managed to turn her around she’d be heading straight into the sunken grave to join them.

  She pulled frantically on the ties as she sensed Catherine bending down towards her. She shuffled away in the darkness, careful not to turn. As long as her back remained on the bridge she was safe.

  She felt her feet being lifted from the ground. A strong grip around her ankles.

  ‘What the hell…?’ Kim cried, but her voice was lost in the deafening thunder roar.

  With her arms tied, she couldn’t stop what was happening and she tried to kick out her feet but they grasped firmly. Catherine had a strong hold on her ankles and was using her body like a lever to swivel her around. She felt herself being turned in a clockwise direction.

  She had to pull her hands apart. It was the only way she could live.

  It was coming. She knew it was coming.

  She could feel the sweat mixed with the raindrops travelling down from her hairline. Catherine was using her legs like a wheelbarrow handle to turn her around.

  Two more turns and she’d be lying lengthways on the bridge between the two graves and then one good kick would leave her on top of one of the corpses.

  The wire would not snap.

  Catherine pushed on her feet one more time and Kim realised that the woman needed the rigidity of Kim’s limbs to help her make the turn. The struggling and fighting was helping Catherine to turn her to the exact place she wanted. While she was thrashing around fighting Catherine off she could use the momentum of the movement to manoeuvre her body.

  The lightning struck right behind Catherine as Kim stilled her body and bent her knees. The unexpected folding of the limbs caused Catherine to stumble into her. For a brief second, Catherine’s weight was resting on Kim’s folded, limp legs.

  She focussed her energy and shot her legs straight back out, catapulting Catherine backwards, giving her a second to try the wire one more time.

  ‘You fucking stupid bitch,’ Catherine hissed.

  Kim worked frantically to weaken the wire. Catherine was disabled for only a couple of seconds. With her hands still tied behind her back, Kim remained the one at a disadvantage.

  She pulled frantically at the wire behind her back. Her wrists burned from the hundreds of wire cuts that were deepening with every movement. The scars from a recent knife wound on a kidnapping case were throbbing beneath the pressure.

  The first thrust appeared to have no effect on the wire at all.

  Her shoulders throbbed from the effort of trying to separate her hands.

  On the second burst, it came free, and her arms exploded away from her.

  Kim pounced on Catherine’s back and wrapped the string around her neck. Catherine’s hands reached up to try to hook her fingers underneath, but Kim pulled on it hard as she slid down the back of Catherine’s torso.

  Catherine’s additional inch or two drew Kim up onto her tiptoes. The woman tried to writhe from her grip, but Kim pulled even harder, hearing a soft choking emerging from her throat.

  She dragged Catherine two steps back so that the torch on the ground would illuminate the immediate area.

  The blood dripped from the score of marks on her wrist where the cuts criss-crossed and blended with each other. For a second, Kim stared at her own wrist.

  It took only a moment for the pieces to fall into place and by the time Kim felt the tap on her shoulder she knew who Graham Studwick really was.

  Ninety-One

  Tracy writhed on the ground. She felt like a limbless worm trying to burrow along. Her arms and legs were so weak it was as though they had been removed from her body, leaving just a torso and a head.

  The grass was long and slippery, and she didn’t know which way would lead her to safety. She only knew that for the moment she was on her own.

  Her back still smarted from him pulling her out of the van by her legs. She had managed to crane her neck and hold it rigid so the back of her head did not thump to the ground.

  He had begun to drag her across the gravel path. A hundred needles had pierced her skin as her flesh was punctured by the countless bricks and stones that either scraped her bare skin or burrowed deep into it. She cursed the drugs that were paralysing her muscles but not her skin.

  Beyond the thunder a sudden noise, a voice, had caught his attention and Tracy had heard it too. He had dropped her legs to the ground and started to run.

  She had been left lying on her back, staring up into the night, unable to move her limbs but knowing she needed to do something.

  She had ignored her arms and legs and focussed all her energy into her hip and waist area. On the third attempt she managed to rock her body to the left and then over onto her stomach, and now she had to choose which way to go.

  Tracy buried her chin into the soaked ground and tried to use it to help her move along.

  She could hear activity at the top of the hill.

  She wanted to crawl away from the sounds. Graham had been distracted by something, and she knew it was her only opportunity to escape.

  This was where Jemima had been murdered and left, and if she didn’t try to crawl away, that would be her fate too.

  A tear forced its way out of her eye as she remembered that fateful day at school. Just for a while she had taken the easy way out, allowed someone else’s pain to relieve her of her own.

  And even now, in her early thirties, she was doing the same. The article she was writing forged into her mind. Negativity, hatred, blame. Again she was pointing away from her own pain by picking at the imperfections of someone else.

  The shame brought a torrent of tears she could not hold back. Some of them were for the person she was now but most were for the person lost. And some were born from the knowledge that she would never see her mother again.

  The thought of her mother brought fresh, raw pain to her heart.

  I wish I could have made you proud, Tracy’s heart screamed into the rain.

  She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was danger at the top of the hill.

  She sobbed uncontrollably as her gaze moved
to the left and the possibility of her own personal safety.

  The years of being alone had erased the instinct of putting someone else before herself.

  Tracy turned her body and began the climb.

  Ninety-Two

  Kim whipped around, still holding Catherine by the throat and looked into the face of the killer.

  Although his thick black hair had been flattened against his head by the pouring rain, she was looking into the eyes of the man she knew as Duncan.

  It all made sense now. Why they couldn’t find anyone by the name of Isobel Jones. Because she didn’t exist.

  Something had struck Kim as odd when he was feeding his girlfriend. Her attempted suicide scars had been on her right wrist, meaning she was left-handed. But he’d been helping her to eat with her right hand.

  He had offered false facts so they would be searching countless records, knowing they would never find her.

  Kim took a step back, dragging Catherine with her. Kim could feel the fight leaving Catherine’s body, but she couldn’t let her go. She couldn’t fight both of them.

  She had missed her opportunity to call out to her team. They would never hear her now amongst the claps of thunder and pounding rain. For now, she was on her own.

  ‘One step closer and I’ll kill her,’ Kim threatened as the rain poured down between them.

  He shrugged as he took the step. ‘Do it. You’d be doing me a favour. With you both dead no one will ever find out.’

  Jesus, Catherine had held the same plan for him. Their use of each other was over and apparently so was the powerful bond that had existed between them. There was only one common denominator in both of their plans: Kim’s death.

  Kim took another two steps back and felt Catherine’s feet begin to drag. Only another minute or two and she’d be dead, and that was not what Kim wanted.