by Martina Cole
As she looked once more at Janet Cross’s new pictures, Annie knew in her heart that these and the young girl’s new look were what had brought her to the attention of the man who had stolen her. Because he had stolen her, he had stolen her life, and that was something that Annie had such a difficult time processing. These young women were being cut down before they had even had a real chance to live.
Margaret Dole was still searching through all the girls’ and their friends’ various social media accounts, but it was another dead end; she believed that, whoever this man was, he did not stalk them online first. This man was watching them physically and, as she had said to Annie Carr, she believed that he was hiding in plain sight. She was trawling through every CCTV and camera she could to try to find someone who was in the vicinity of each girl’s abduction.
Being the tech head that she was, she couldn’t accept that this man was walking about without his image being seen anywhere. Whoever he was, he was somewhere, and she just had to find him. She was determined to find him. She couldn’t comprehend that in a town as small as Grantley there was no evidence of anyone near or following the girls who had gone missing. It was like the perpetrator was invisible.
Annie was convinced that whoever they were looking for had some kind of relationship with the girls concerned. So far, everyone they had spoken to had an alibi, so Margaret knew that it had to be someone that had not come to their attention yet. But she would lay money, serious money, that whoever they were looking for had already come into their orbit at some point.
She was going to find this fucker. It was getting personal now; there was nothing she could not find out if she wanted to, and yet she could not collate one thing that put these girls’ abductions together.
But she would, if it was the last thing she did. She would find the link needed to find the man who was doing this.
Chapter Seventy-five
Christine Murray was not really sure what to say about the latest developments in her love life. While she had dreamt of Joseph leaving his wife, she had never actually thought he would do it. And now overnight it seemed he had. While a large part of her was pleased there was another, smaller part of her that felt ashamed, frightened of the consequences. She knew how much he loved his children – they were everything to him – so she couldn’t believe that he had truly left them. From what she could understand, it had all become too much for him.
It seemed to her that in the short time since he had found his father he had changed, and changed for the better. He was braver, he had become more outgoing and, best of all, he appeared to have found in Patrick Kelly the strength that he so desperately needed. They had talked long and hard during the course of their relationship about Bella and her behaviour. Christine was convinced she needed some kind of medical assistance. Joseph had loved Bella once and still did, in a way, because she was the mother of his children. For so long Joseph’s hands had been tied because Bella acted the part of a loving wife, even though he felt she was doing just that – acting.
There was something cold and calculating about her, even in the way she parented their children. Joseph had once said that he couldn’t fault her as a mother, yet there was a big part of him that didn’t trust her entirely. Bella had what Joseph termed a ‘different take’ on the world around her. She had a screw loose somewhere and, at times, she worried him; she had a strange kink in her nature, and sometimes her behaviour could be seriously unpredictable.
Now that it was all out in the open, Christine had to expect some kind of backlash at some point, and she hoped she was strong enough to cope with it. Joseph O’Loughlin was the big love of her life, and it seemed that a future with him was now within her grasp. So she couldn’t understand why this knowledge frightened her.
Her doorbell rang and she went through the hallway to answer it. As soon as she opened the front door, she saw Bella O’Loughlin standing there and, before she could react, Bella had thrown something in her face, and it was burning her. Christine felt as if her skin was melting. She had attempted to slam the door closed when she had seen Bella, and so the acid only hit part of her face, head and shoulder, but it was painful and she could smell burning.
Her agonised screams alerted her neighbours to the fact that there was something unpleasant happening, so they immediately called the police.
When they arrived, Bella O’Loughlin was long gone.
Chapter Seventy-six
Amelia Johnson was exhausted. She hated working shifts and, now that she actually had a day off, she was too tired to do all the things she had planned. But the one thing Amelia always did when she had time off was go to her son’s grave and place fresh flowers on it. She still missed him, even after all these years. And, even though she had only had him for a few weeks, she cherished that time every day of her life. Her son’s death had broken up her marriage – not that it had been that stable to start with. They had both been so young, too young really, but she often wondered if things might have worked out between them if Charlie hadn’t died in his sleep. After that they didn’t have a chance.
So now, thirteen years later, Amelia lived alone, she worked and, when she got home, she watched TV and she drank. It wasn’t the life she had envisaged for herself, but it was a life of sorts. It was the life she had anyway, and it suited her in many respects.
As she walked into the cemetery, she looked around her at the familiar surroundings. There were a few graves she liked to look at, old graves that held other young babies like her Charlie. Amelia was comforted thinking that they were all near to each other, that there were other babies close by to keep him company. She strolled through the sunshine and, as she approached her son’s small grave, she smiled. Amelia talked to him in her head, and she told him all about what was going on in her life. She knew it wasn’t the most exciting news, as nothing much happened to her, but it was still contact, and that was what she felt was important. Little Charlie was the only thing that she had ever accomplished of note – he was the only thing that she had ever been remotely proud of. She still kept his photos all over her flat, and she prayed for the repose of his soul every Sunday at mass. All things considered, Amelia felt that she had been very lucky to have had her son as long as she had. It had taken a long time for her to come to that realisation, but now she accepted his death and she didn’t blame herself any more.
Amelia knelt down and placed the flowers she had purchased at her local Asda supermarket and stroked the grass that covered him like a blanket. It was cut neatly once a week. All Charlie had was a small cross with his name and a picture on, but it was perfection to her. His image was still so much a part of her life, even if he wasn’t. She opened her bag up and took out her rosary; she always said a quick decade, and it was always the Joyful Mysteries because she loved them so much. There was so much hope there, and she appreciated that.
When Amelia opened her eyes once more, she heard a sound. Her son’s grave was near the copse of trees where the old gate was situated – perfect, really, if any mourners wanted to walk through the woodland. The woods were beautiful any time of the year; she had walked them many times herself, especially at the beginning, when it had still been raw and she had been coming to terms with her son’s death. In the spring the whole place was blanketed in bluebells. She would pick a couple of bunches and place some on Charlie’s grave and take the others home with her to remind her of her son.
Amelia stood up and looked towards the trees and, frowning, she walked slowly towards what she first thought was a bundle of rubbish. It was only when she was nearer that she realised it was a young girl, and that she had been laid on some old newspapers. And that was the noise she had heard when the wind blew.
Putting her hand across her mouth to stop herself from vomiting, she looked down at the destroyed body on the ground. As she stumbled away from the gruesome sight she saw a young family and, calling out to them, she tried to stop herself from collapsing on the ground. Starting to throw up, Amelia felt the te
ars that were never far away when she was near her son’s grave. But this time they weren’t for her son, they were for the naked girl who looked like she had been through a meat grinder.
Janet Cross had been found. And, for the first time in years, Amelia Johnson was crying over someone other than her son.
Chapter Seventy-seven
Annie Carr was devastated. She had held on to a tiny hope that this girl would be found alive and unharmed, that this wasn’t going to be another murder, that there would be a perfectly rational reason for the girl to go on the missing list. Janet’s new look might have got her invited to a party, or she might have gone to see a band with some friends. Anything would have been better than this. She was just blooming, becoming a young woman, and now she was dead.
As Annie looked at the small girl on the mortuary table, with her budding little breasts and her peeling skin, she felt the urge to cry at the waste of such a young life. She had been mutilated, like her predecessors. And no sexual contact could be ascertained, just like the other girls who had been murdered.
Megan McFee shook her head in denial. It never ceased to amaze her what people were capable of doing to each other. Only wild animals should hunt, not human beings. But she had dealt with murder enough times to know that was not the case, and it never got any easier. These recent murders were beyond anything that she had seen in a long time, and she hated that another young girl was lying on her slab bereft of her life – a life that had been stolen in the most painful way possible.
She sighed deeply, before looking at Annie and saying sadly, ‘She was tortured, burned, stabbed and mutilated, just like the others. But – I am going out on a limb here, Annie, so don’t quote me on it, and I can verify my findings at a later date – but I think that whoever murdered this little girl hesitated at some point. The knife marks aren’t as deep as they were on Kylie and Destiny – those were done in a rage. This child’s stab wounds are hesitant. By the same token he went to town on the burning, but unlike the other girls, she was already dead when he started on that. Her cause of death was asphyxiation. The fucker smothered her first. I know it’s not my place to say this, but I think he felt remorse with little Janet Cross and he made it an easier death for her – a courtesy that he didn’t afford to his first two victims. This girl was different somehow. It’s not a scientific opinion but, in all the years I have done this job, I have a nose for what these bodies are trying to tell me.’
Annie Carr nodded, letting Megan know that she agreed with her. She respected Megan’s opinion because, as Kate had always drummed it into her, this was a woman who knew her job backwards and sideways.
‘I’m assuming there’s no trace or DNA again?’
Megan sighed. ‘I’ve swabbed but you can still smell the bleach, even though I have washed her down since she first came in. I don’t hold out much hope, to be completely honest with you. Whoever is responsible has an awful lot of industrial bleach, better known as sodium hypochlorite, and I would say that she was more or less drowned in the stuff, because there is nothing left to give us a fucking inkling of who might be responsible. But I have one bright light in this constant darkness, and that is I smelt linseed oil on her hair. I’ve taken samples to verify that, but I know my oils.’
Annie didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her own counsel.
‘One other thing I will mention, Annie, is that as clever as this fucker is, he did leave one little clue. In case you weren’t listening earlier, I said that this time he had used industrial bleach. On the last two girls he used domestic bleach, which I have to admit does a pretty good job of neutralising any DNA or trace of any kind. That means we can narrow our search down. Also, the linseed oil tells me that, at some point after the bleach had been used, her body was in contact with something that required the use of linseed oil. My guess would be that it was used in pure form on some kind of wood. I know this doesn’t say too much at the moment but I hope it does mean something down the line.’
Annie Carr looked at Megan McFee and felt, as always, the wonderment that such an articulate and intelligent woman could allow herself to be taken over by such a destructive disease. Bulimic she may be, but Megan was still the best in town, as Kate would say. Megan was stick thin, and all the layers of baggy clothing could never hide that fact.
Megan was smiling sadly as she said, ‘Not a lot for you to go on, I know, Annie, but at least it’s something.’
Annie Carr forced a smile then, because Megan was right; this was something different, and she hoped that whoever they were looking for had become complacent enough to make a mistake. The only downside to that thought was it meant another girl being slaughtered so they could maybe find another clue of some description.
‘Thank you, Megan, and you are right. At some point what you have discovered could well lead us to the man we want.’
Secretly Annie wasn’t going to bet on it; even she had a tin of linseed oil in her house like a whole host of other people. She used it on her beech worktops. The use of industrial bleach, though, might prove to be a better line of enquiry. There had to be some sort of documentation for that.
Megan smiled, satisfied that she had been of some help. It was frustrating when she couldn’t provide the answers. ‘Oh, and one other thing – unlike the first two victims, this child had a full stomach. She had eaten not that long before death. She had also recently ingested a Curly Wurly of all things!’
Annie Carr shook her head, once more thinking angrily that, of course, Janet had sweets in her system! She was a fucking child, after all. Looking down at Janet’s slight frame that had been so viciously assaulted and destroyed, she felt an overwhelming rush of dread.
As her Chief Super kept pointing out, they were no nearer to finding the man responsible for these atrocities and they had an ever-sensationalist media breathing down their necks. They had a better chance of winning the rollover on the EuroMillions lottery. Sarcastic fucker. It was all very well for him; he was a career man who had never been on the job.
This was the most frustrating case Annie had ever been involved with, all the more so because they just couldn’t get a break. Not forensically, or through CCTV, or through good old-fashioned policing such as door-to-door. She’d had helicopters up, men and women on overtime searching everywhere they could find. So many people were volunteering to help them, yet they still had sweet FA.
She swallowed down the tears that were gathering in her eyes and walked stiffly from the mortuary. Janet Cross’s body was invading her mind and she couldn’t force those images away. She had a feeling that she never would.
Once she was back, settled in her car, she lit a cigarette and smoked it silently until she felt competent to drive. She had never felt so helpless in her life before, and it wasn’t a good feeling.
Chapter Seventy-eight
Kate was in shock, unable to believe what she knew was true.
‘Fucking hell, Kate, that mad bitch has attacked Joseph’s bird! Acid, they think! Straight in the poor fucker’s boatrace!’ Patrick was shaking his head in disbelief.
But Kate knew it was so because Bella had called her, begging for her help, but she couldn’t say that to Patrick. She knew that she had to go and try to help Bella in some way. She wasn’t sure how she would even start to achieve that, but she had to try. Kate understood, after all those years in the police force, that things were very rarely how they seemed.
She knew in her heart that Bella had been pushed over the edge, and that it had been on the cards for a long time. Despite Bella’s treatment of her, Kate did genuinely feel for the woman who was desperate at the thought of losing not only her husband but the opportunity to be a part of Patrick Kelly’s lavish world. Kate had known from day one just how important Bella regarded money and property, had seen how she craved recognition through being seen as rich and successful. She had never taken to Bella but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand the woman’s predicament. Her ex-husband, Dan, had made sure she kne
w what it was like to feel second best constantly, to know that no matter what you did you couldn’t compete with the woman your husband was enamoured with.
That Bella was off her fucking tree she didn’t dispute, but Kate knew that she had to see her before she went on the trot. Because on the trot she would go! And take the kids with her – at least Amanda, who was still young enough to believe what she was told.
So against her better judgement she saw Patrick off at the door, and told him she would meet up with him and Joseph later on in the day. As she watched him leave, she hoped she was making the right decision. Whatever Bella was, or wasn’t, she was still the mother of those children, and as such she deserved at least a hearing. Kate hoped that if she could see Bella she might be able to talk some sense into her.
As she got into her car, she wondered if Annie had got her message, because she had a feeling she was going to need her help quick sharp. The state Bella was in, she needed to be handled carefully, especially as she had her young daughter with her. She couldn’t get out of her where young Joey was, and Patrick had not enlightened her.
It was a mess. The moment Joseph had walked through their front door she had felt that a bomb had gone off in her life, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted this upset and aggravation. She also knew though that Patrick was happier than she had ever seen him, even with all this going on. It meant that she had no choice but to go along with what Patrick wanted and, until today, she had not really minded that. But these latest events had put a different complexion on things. As she drove, she wondered what the rest of the day would bring.
Chapter Seventy-nine
Patrick and Joseph were at the hospital and, even though it went against the grain, the older man hoped that the Old Bill threw the book at Bella. Her rival’s face was half-destroyed, and there was a huge bald patch on the side of her head where Christine’s beautiful hair had been. Even in her present state he could see what had attracted his son to her; she had been a looker, and she was well built into the bargain.