Broken Angel

by Diane M Dickson

  Sue spoke up just before they all shut down. “Has Kate had any luck with the Twitter stuff?”

  “No, she’s been monitoring Steven Blakely’s Facebook page, and the memorial page they have set up for Sarah. There’s plenty of activity apparently but nothing that has jumped out at her. A lot of the usual sentimental outpouring. I am going to go through some of it myself now, just to help out.”

  “Do you want us to do some as well?” Dan said.

  “No, there’s no need and we can go over the print outs tomorrow anyway, thanks though. You guys get some rest and we’ll get back to it in the morning. Good night.”

  She shut off Skype and dropped her head into her hands. It was a disappointment, more than she had let on, but their luck had to change sometime. It just had to.

  She rang Charlie. As he answered the phone she realised that she didn’t know what he could say that hadn’t already been said. She had just, quite suddenly, felt alone, a little overwhelmed by the responsibility and it was an odd feeling for her, unexpected and unsettling. “Sorry Charlie, I hate disturbing you at home. I just needed someone to talk to.”

  “Do you want me to come over to you?”

  “God no, I just, well to be honest I don’t know why I called. We’ve said all there is to say. I’m frustrated I think, and impatient.”

  “Tanya, you need to get some sleep. You’re tired, we all are. You’ll be fine tomorrow. Really you will. You’ve got this.”

  She could hear the baby crying in the background and felt guilty and feeble, needy.

  “Yeah, sorry Charlie.”

  “See you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

  She turned back to her laptop, clicked on the page she had bookmarked two days ago. They were nice boots, good expensive boots. She pressed buy.

  * * *

  She had three hours of restless snoozing, waking over and over with the thoughts and ideas spinning in her head. She tried to relax, tried to clear her mind but nothing worked and when the mobile phone on her bedside table lit and began to vibrate she snatched it up with a feeling of relief, even though she knew that a call in the early hours of the morning couldn’t be good news.

  “Miller.” She snapped on the light. Before the dispatcher at the other end of the line had finished speaking she was already sliding out of bed and pulling clothes from her underwear drawer.

  Chapter 23

  This church was more imposing than the last one, bigger, more affluent looking. It was another pretty building, the nave extending impressively from the foot of its square tower. There was a small porch, great dark wood doors, and a little apex roof, shining wet in the growing light, fancy windows, ancient trees.

  It had taken just half an hour to drive through the deserted country roads from Oxford. As she crossed the motorway, Tanya glanced from the bridge, the carriageways were not empty, never, but they were quiet at this early hour.

  As she pulled onto the verge at the side of the road she noticed lights in upstairs windows nearby, and saw the flutter of a curtain as someone peered out at the early morning disturbance. Already there were patrol cars, an ambulance parked beside the entrance to a small row of lock up garages, the blue light thrown back by the pale stone walls of the church. For a moment hope flared, an ambulance wouldn’t be called for a dead body, but then the black van from the mortuary pulled around the corner in front of her, drawing to a halt just beyond the churchyard entrance.

  Tanya showed her warrant card to the young constable at the gate, and pointed to the small group clustered near the ambulance. “What’s that about?”

  “Poor bugger who called it in. Thought he’d seen a ghost, fell off his bike. They reckon he’s broken his arm, but right now they’re trying to calm him down a bit. He’s in a shocking state.”

  She crossed the damp grass. There was a policewoman, standing with her arm around the shoulders of the old man just inside the back door of the ambulance, she nodded at Tanya.

  “This is Mr Morris, they need to get him to hospital but we’ve been sorting him out a bit first.” She indicated the sling on his arm. Tanya leaned close to the patient who was shuddering and shaking under the silver blanket.

  “Mr Morris, I know this has been horrible for you, but I wonder if you can just give me a quick idea about this morning?”

  He shook his head. “Scared me bloody stupid it did. I come down here every day, every day, never had nothing like this happen.”

  “It’s early, are you always out and about this early?”

  “Aye. I’m a baker, going in to light my ovens, I always come down this way. On my bike see, no cars normally, nice and quiet. Don’t know that I’ll ever do it again after this.”

  “Can you describe what happened?”

  He pulled the blanket tighter to his throat, shuddered again. “Well, I suppose nothing really happened, not as such. I was just pedalling down beside the graveyard, never bothered me that, not till now anyway. I glanced over and…” He shook his head. “I can’t tell you, I just can’t. never believed in ghosts, all that nonsense, but when I saw that. Well.” He pointed to his knees where the trousers were torn, blood seeping through the fabric. “I lost control, went arse over elbow, landed slap in the middle of the road. I were terrified, truly, thought I was gonna have a heart attack. Anyway, I dragged meself up, and then I saw what it was, that thing. I thought it might be a dummy, you know, like one of the fake ones they have in shop windows, but I wasn’t going in there, wasn’t getting near, so I just dialled 999. It’s a woman, isn’t it? Some poor bloody woman. Who’d do a thing like that, eh?”

  “I don’t know, Mr Morris, but I’m doing everything I can to find out.” She nodded to the paramedic and moved away, watching as they helped him further into the vehicle.

  The sky was streaked now with pink, the trees gaining colour in the growing dawn. They hadn’t erected the plastic cover yet and sequins and silver threads caught the light, glittering like pink fireflies as the breeze stirred the filmy fabric of the gown. It was beautiful and terrible. Long blond hair shifted and swayed, the ends flicking over a pale face.

  “Detective Inspector.” At the sound of his voice she turned to see Simon Hewitt striding towards her, pulling up the hood of his paper suit, tucking in his dark hair. He leaned to shake her hand. “I’m sorry to see you again in such circumstances.”

  She nodded, watched as he pulled up the mask, noted that there was no ring on his finger as he pushed it into the blue gloves.

  Well that didn’t mean anything, nothing at all.

  “Looks like something similar to the last one,” she murmured.

  He nodded, “Well, we’ll see, won’t we. From what I’ve been told there are obvious similarities but as soon as I have any solid information I’ll let you know.”

  She knew, she knew already that this had to be Millie. It was going to be a long hard day, there were going to be some difficult conversations. “I’d appreciate anything you can tell me as soon as it’s possible.” Hewitt nodded at her and then strode on towards the tragic figure, stroked now with growing light from the rising sun, beads and baubles glinting prettily.

  * * *

  By the time she reached the office, Charlie was already there, already making coffee. “The team are on the way in.” He held out a cup, offered her the bag of pastries. In spite of the scene she had just left, Tanya was hungry. She pulled out a chocolatine, dipped it into her cup and groaned with pleasure as she pushed the sweet, chocolaty mush into her mouth.

  Chapter 24

  Toast and coffee again. Tanya wondered if the homely smell would always remind her of these days, these dead women. She wondered who it was bringing their breakfast up from the canteen but couldn’t ask; hadn’t she and Charlie done exactly the same thing, albeit from the shops outside? But there was something about the old-fashioned smell of toast, it was the smell of home that seemed wrong in this room where the pictures of Millie’s dead body in her silver dress had joined the ones of her grinning
and smiling on holiday just a few days ago.

  She perched on the desk, the team found their places, settled down. “Right, well I don’t think there can be very much doubt that this is the same as Sarah. We are waiting for the pathologist of course, but I’m going to be very surprised if it’s not the same method. There was no blood visible, no damage to the body that I could see from where I stood. This dress is simpler. A bit medieval I suppose, with those long, flowing sleeves, the high waist, but I’m not sure that’s relevant, though of course we should keep an open mind. It looks like a wedding dress to me, so please email an image to your contacts at the charity shops from yesterday to see if any of them remember it. It’s lovely isn’t it? Now there is one thing that is different, and I wasn’t able to see it at first from my position, not until we received the pictures, but look at her hair.” Tanya pointed to the close up.

  “Tinsel,” said Sue, “The tinsel is round her head.”

  Tanya nodded. “It would make sense then, that the piece that we found last time,” she held up the evidence bag, “was round Sarah’s head. It looks long enough anyway.”

  There was silence for a moment. Paul spoke out, “Maybe he was making her into a queen, with a crown, you know.”

  Tanya nodded, scribbled on the board.

  From his place in the back of the room Dan Price coughed, they turned to him, “Nativity.” Dan’s voice was low, he had blushed now he had the attention of the whole room, but he stood up, pointed towards the noticeboard.

  Tanya tipped her head to one side, “Sorry?”

  “My kid sister, she’s a lot younger than me. Still at school and I went to the Christmas concert last year. They did a nativity, there was a bit of a fuss about it, they had it sort of multi-faith in the end, but with the baby and shepherds, that stuff.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively. He was bright red by now, couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

  “Yes,” Charlie stepped in. “So, they used tinsel? What for, trimming?”

  “Yeah, some for that, but the little girls, they wore it on their heads.”

  Sue interrupted and rescued him. “Angels?”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, nodded. “Yeah. The angels had tinsel round their heads, like halos.”

  Tanya spoke slowly, turning to peer more closely at the photographs, “So, maybe she’s not a bride then? With that on her head, it’s a whatchamacallit – a halo.”

  “Yes, boss. I reckon so.”

  “Well done, Dan.” She had meant to encourage him and all she did was cause him to blush an even deeper shade. He’d have to get over that, find some confidence; she smiled at him, nodded. “So, she, they, were angels.” She hadn’t meant to plunge them back into gloom, but she saw them, saw them read her thoughts, not were angels, not were. Are. If you believe in that stuff and some people still do.

  “Hang on a minute.” This from Kate who had turned to her desk, was scrolling through the screen on her computer, typing impatiently while she muttered under her breath. “There, yes. Hold on while I transfer it. They all turned to watch as the mirror of Kate’s screen opened on the big monitor beside the boards. It showed a Twitter feed, they watched as she scrolled through the expressions of sympathy, the sickly-sweet comments, the thumbnails of laughing girls in bars, arms around each other, groups which would never again include Sarah. Kate stilled the image. “There, look!”

  Tanya read the tweet aloud. “Don’t grieve now, she is an angel.”

  The picture on the screen moved again, “And again here. I didn’t take a lot of notice, there was so much stuff like this. She’s at peace and what not, but here again, the same person. After Steven Blakely acknowledges the tweet with just a thank you.” She enlarged the image so that they could all read it. “She has been spared to sit in beauty with the angels.”

  “Right.” Tanya walked to Kate’s desk, looked down at the smaller screen as if somehow it made it all more real. “Kate, get on to the IT department. We need to know where this was sent from, who the hell this is. Excellent, well done.” She was rewarded with just a short nod from the older woman but could see the pride in the set of her shoulders the way she slid into her desk chair, picked up the phone. Charlie, take Dan, go and see, Steven, we need to tell him about this personally anyway, but see if he knows who this is, tweeting. I have to go and talk to Mr and Mrs Roberts.

  The mood in the room had lifted, they could all feel it, this was something real, something positive.

  Then Tanya’s phone rang. The chatter quieted, a couple of them turned to look at her. Because, sometimes you just know.

  Chapter 25

  It wasn’t bloody fair, it just wasn’t. Why did they think it was alright to treat her like a sodding ping pong ball? Just because her stupid mother and loser dad couldn’t keep their shit together, couldn’t stay married, why did they think she had to be the one treated like a lump of bloody luggage, shuffled back and forth?

  Jane was livid. Not only had her loser dad’s new wife been there all bloody week, pawing and leering at him, which she thought was disgusting, then she’d had to share the bedroom with her dad’s stupid, grotesque little step kid. Then he’d dropped her off here early to wait while they all went off to some feeble birthday party. Now she had to spend the weekend with her mother, and all of next week. Getting herself ready for school because mum’s precious, bloody boss needed her in at eight in the morning; making her own tea, because he needed her to stay late. Well that was okay because all she had to do was stick some plates in the dishwasher and she could say she’d eaten.

  She looked down at the chips in front of her, the burger in its paper wrapper. She wasn’t eating this. Did he think she was like six or something? God, couldn’t he see how fat she was already, she reached a hand to her waist, pinched at her skin. She was huge, fat and ugly and dumped in these scuzzy services waiting for her bloody mother who couldn’t even get there on time. Why couldn’t they just let her choose who she lived with, permanently, why couldn’t they just let her decide? It was her bloody life.

  She’d go. That’s what she’d do. If they couldn’t be bothered with her, she’d go. She grinned across at a couple of soldiers sitting a few tables away, the cute one with the shaved head winked at her.

  She picked at the cooling chips, pushed the plastic plate away. That was so environmentally disgusting, plastic. Nobody cared. Bloody old people, they’d already ruined the world and there’d be nothing left by the time she left school, got a job, her own place, her own life.

  She bent to pick up her backpack. She wasn’t waiting any longer. If her stupid mother couldn’t get there in time, then sod her. She’d go and blag a lift, get a ride and then she’d ring her from home. That’d show her, maybe then they’d stop treating her like a little kid. She sniffed, wiped away the tears of anger and frustration.

  She saw his boots, his jeans, raised her head. She didn’t speak, he was really old.

  “Good evening young lady. Are you on your own?”

  She didn’t answer, she glared at him, opened her eyes wide, blew out a huff, turned away and pulled out her phone. That was when he flicked open the wallet and she saw the police badge, his picture. Shit.

  “Are you on your own?”

  “I’m waiting for my mum. She’s been delayed. I’m fine.”

  “It’s not safe for you to be here, have you not seen the notices?”

  She hadn’t, not really. She’d seen some stupid pictures, two women, she hadn’t read them, they were nothing to do with her.

  “We’re concerned about young women on their own here and at the other service areas. We’re especially worried about women looking like yourself.” He pulled one of the posters from his pocket, held it out to her. Okay she could see, they both had hair like hers, blue eyes, they were sort of pretty, but they were ancient. She didn’t look like them, not at all.

  She needed him to go, this was well embarrassing, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “How long will it be before your mo
ther arrives?”

  “Well I don’t know, do I? Stupid bitch, she’s probably lost or something. Look I’ll ring her, okay.”

  “I don’t think you should use that attitude with me. I could arrest you, for your own safety, you know that, don’t you?”

  He couldn’t, could he? That was bollocks, wasn’t it?

  “I’m sorry. Look not TBR or anything, but it’s just been a long day, okay?”

  “Tell you what, why don’t you come and wait with me? I’ve got some coffee in the car, decent stuff not like they serve here.”

  Shit, she didn’t want to be seen with this old man, he was rank, people might think he was her dad or something. Police should look smarter than this, police should wear proper uniforms. She glanced at the soldiers again, yeah uniforms are cool. She shook her head. “I don’t drink coffee, it’s crap.”

  He laughed, just a snort really, “Well okay, I’ve got herbal tea, water, don’t suppose you drink that either?”

  “Sometimes. But, look, okay, my mum’ll be here soon. Honest, I’ll just wait here.”

  “You okay here?”

  OMG, it was the soldier, the one with the shaved head, Oh my actual God, he’s so hot.

  She was going to tell him, let him know that it was all fine, that she was in control and then, the stupid old bloke flashed his i.d. The soldier backed off, gave her a weird look. Great, now he thought she was some sort of scummer or something. Well, bloody typical.

  “See, that’s what I mean. You shouldn’t be here on your own. Not at the moment, not looking like…” He stopped. “Tell you what, why don’t you come and sit in my van? You can call your mum, and when she arrives she can pick you up outside. I’ll make sure you’re okay. Make sure you’re safe.”

  She still didn’t know if it was a good decision, but it was better than sitting in the café arguing and when her mum turned up she’d tell her the police had taken her in for protection and that would freak her out. Yeah.

  The van was old, but it was blue, and it had a sort of badge on the side. Jane looked around, there were not many people about, not in this quiet corner beside the motel. She wasn’t sure. She felt tears welling up again, her throat closing over.