by Carla Kovach
Maybe there wasn’t a dead woman in the boot. Maybe the woman he called Ellie didn’t exist. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d mentioned someone and Bruce would tell her he’d never heard of that person. She had been beyond sure that they’d had visitors in the past but he’d deny it, saying that she’d been asleep and must have dreamed it. Her sleeping pills were strong but she had been so sure.
A thought flashed through her mind, one of her recent episodes. She dreamed of another person in the house. She didn’t recognise the voice. It was a couple of nights before they’d moved and she’d taken one of her tablets after a stressful day of packing. Had she opened her eyes and discovered Bruce talking to someone in their old house at Stratford, or was it her alternative reality? In her reality, she’d staggered down the stairs in a stupor and spotted her husband unpacking the washing line. Was it real? She kept trying to remember the voice but she couldn’t recall it. It was no use. It wasn’t real.
She inhaled and counted, then exhaled and counted. She’d read that this helped with anxiety. It was no use. She gasped and began to hyperventilate as a tremor travelled through her whole body, forcing her to shake against her will. She couldn’t do this. She needed to go home and be safe behind the closed door of her house. ‘Take me back,’ she stammered between gasps of breath. She stared at the streetlamps ahead and saw a sign pointing to Cleevesford Community Park. It was a park she’d never been to before but Bruce had told her about it. He’d played there as a child and it contained a small pond where he used to collect tadpoles. Cleevesford was nothing like Stratford-upon-Avon, which was enriched by its Shakespearean history. She’d loved their house in Stratford but Bruce had insisted on moving close to where he’d lived as a child – wanting to show off his success to all who had known him. The boy who’d grown up on a council estate and made it big.
‘I knew I’d need to deal with Ellie, for us, but not now. You did this. You killed her.’ There was a woman in the boot. She hadn’t imagined it. She pinched her hand as her breath began to quicken and the shakes came back. She needed to ground herself. That was something else she’d read. Be in the moment. Feel, hear, touch and smell. It wasn’t working. Her mind kept coming back to the fact that there was a dead woman in the boot. She hadn’t imagined it. Her husband had murdered the woman.
He reached out to her, tried to calm her down, but she struck him on the back of his head. ‘Don’t you dare touch me. You killed her! You’re going to kill me too.’ Her wet face glistened in the moonlight as he turned into the deserted car park. No one visited the park in the early hours of the morning. She was alone with a madman, and that madman was her husband.
Forty-Nine
He slammed the brakes on as he pulled up. ‘Just shut up. I did what I had to do, to protect us, to protect you. How about our son? What would Craig think?’
Nothing but a field surrounded by trees stared back. She knew she had betrayed him by helping Ellie. But what was she meant to do? It was all real. She’d watched the woman lying in their spare bed, tied to the posts, sleeping in her own urine and she couldn’t bear to have that happening in her home any longer. She’d tried to call the detective but her nerves had got the better of her. Maybe the detective had traced the call and was coming to help. She wondered if she’d kept the call open long enough or if the phone had even been registered. After all, it was an old pay-as-you-go phone that Bruce had kept topped up so that he could call her if she was working in the garden.
‘I can’t have you playing me up tonight, not now. Open your mouth?’
She shook her head as tears streamed down her face. He wiped her tears and kissed her cheek.
‘Look outside. Does it make you anxious? How would you like it all to go away? Look, my love. I can help you. We’re in this together; just you and me. I’m going to deal with it all. You’ve had her in the house, tied up to the bed too, not just me. You helped me – remember? If we get caught, we both go down for murder. Craig is twenty now, at university, in his last year. What would this do to him, knowing his mother and father were murderers? Open your mouth, now!’ He held the pill between his fingers and tried to shove it through her pursed lips.
She shook her head. She wasn’t a murderer. She’d tried to help the woman get out of the house but he’d come back, and he’d forced her into the house and killed the woman. She turned away from him. She wasn’t taking the pill.
He grabbed her chin and squeezed her nose. ‘Okay. We’ll do it the hard way. You know I always win. I’m doing this because I care. Remember that.’ As she opened her mouth and gasped for breath, he dropped the pill down her throat. Grabbing a bottle of water, he poured it into her mouth and clamped a hand over her lips. She had no option but to swallow.
As he removed his hand, she burst into sobs. ‘You’re going to kill me.’ He poked his finger around her mouth and under her tongue as he felt for the tablet. She could bite him – hard. She began to clench her jaw, but stopped. There’s no way she had the energy to fight.
‘Close your eyes. I’ll have you back home and in bed soon. You’ve just had a bad panic attack. Go to sleep.’ He left the driver’s door open as he dashed to the boot. A chilly blast of air filled the car as the breeze picked up a little. She wished he’d shut the door.
Natalie closed her eyes, hoping he would leave her alone. He opened the boot and she listened as the woman’s body thudded onto the ground, followed by a dragging noise. He stopped and paused before closing the boot. She inhaled – petrol. She opened her eyes and pinched her skin once again. The tablet would totally take effect soon and she’d be good for nothing and at the mercy of her killer husband. She turned the rear-view mirror so that she could see. The white overall her husband was wearing stood out against the darkness of the hill. As he disappeared, dragging the body along the path that led to the play park, she flung open the passenger door, prodded a finger down her throat and shuddered as she vomited. There was no way he was sending her to sleep. By morning she’d be convinced that nothing had happened. She knew what was happening right here and now. She couldn’t risk forgetting. She was reaching her edge and was about to topple over into the unknown. Regardless of whether she could be fixed, she was no longer going to resist. ‘I am the crack that runs through the mirror,’ she whispered as she stepped out of the car, avoiding the small blob of vomit. The fear of shattering and losing herself forever was weaker than usual.
With every step she took, she knew there was no way back. Bruce wasn’t going to forgive her for assisting the woman’s escape and he wasn’t going to forgive her if he found out she’d called the detective.
She’d spent too many years gazing into a mirror and tracing the outline of the stranger that always stared back. No longer would she be a stranger to herself even if she lost herself in the process. Maybe she could be fixed, maybe not. As her breath quickened, she inhaled and tried to ground herself. She could smell earth and cut grass. She listened. The sound of water trickling in the distance, then the couple of cars travelling along the dual carriageway that led to the town centre, further verified the here and now. She felt a bramble bush as she passed and was careful not to prick her fingers. She’d reached way beyond the edge of her safe zone and suddenly she could breathe. It was like she had just been reborn. Maybe she could be fixed. She sniffed the April air once again and shuddered as she inhaled smoke. As she staggered along the path, she almost fainted at the sight. What she saw could never be fixed.
She had to get away and quick. If he could do that to Ellie, he could do it to her. She didn’t want to be murdered, tied to a roundabout and set alight. The sight of flames licking the skies above and the smell of cooking flesh overloaded her senses. The heart rate she’d done so well to control began to ramp up. The light of the fire swirled into shapes as she glanced back. She’d brought the tablet back up. She shouldn’t be feeling woozy. Little imp-like creatures that her brain teased her with began to emerge from the flames, leaving the smouldering woman behind. The
y flew at her, grinning as she staggered, threatening to set her alight.
As she slipped and ran down the bank, she headed towards the trees at the back of the field. A hand grabbed her shoulder. The imps had caught up with her. They’d come to take her away. The earth began to bend and swirl. The sky above was now the sky at her side. The moon was laughing as she lay on her back. Her eyelids felt heavy. She’d left it too long to get the tablet out of her system. Some of it was still in her. It was too late.
Her husband leaned over and scooped her up as her heavy eyelids closed, against her will. A tear slid down the side of her face. The image of the dead woman, burning on the roundabout where children would soon be playing, was all she could think about. In her mind, the little fire imps were eating away at her, finishing her off, until there was nothing but charcoal left.
Fifty
The fluorescent clock on the taxi driver’s radio told Gina it was almost 5 a.m. ‘Just here will be fine.’ She stopped him at the entrance of the parking area and handed him some money. The forensic vans were in the car park and in the distance she could see the battery-powered lights, marking the spot. She thought back to the phone call from the mystery woman and the words he’ll kill the woman ran through her mind.
She nodded at PC Smith as he began taping off the outer cordon. ‘Another murder in less than a week, guv. How are you?’
Several other PC’s assisted with the scene, going about their business under torchlight. Crime scene investigators walked back and forth to the van. One headed back towards the scene with a clipboard, another carried a camera.
‘Still tender but there’s no time to stay at home and lick my wounds.’ Smith simply nodded as Gina passed him. He too looked exhausted. She yawned as she made her way across the bottom of the car park, towards the park, flinching with every step. The pain from her attack had set in even worse after she’d been woken up by Jacob’s call; face buried in a cushion, on the settee.
A crime scene investigator intercepted her. Gina held up her identification. ‘You need these on,’ the woman called as she handed Gina a forensic suit, some gloves and a pair of boot covers. ‘We’re trying to preserve the car park too. Bernard’s just over by the tent and he’s waiting for you. Keith’s on his way to assist. Follow the stepping plates around the edge of the park.’
Gina turned back to see Smith telling an early morning dog walker to take an alternative route.
‘The investigators have made a start and erected a tent. Hope you don’t mind us starting without you,’ Jacob said, walking towards her. Gina shook her head. Jacob knew the drill and was all suited up. She trusted Bernard and Jacob to work the crime scene thoroughly. ‘There’s no way any member of the public should catch a glance of this. I don’t know who we’re looking for but this is awful, guv.’
‘What do you know?’
‘I’ve been here about fifteen minutes. The fire service was first on the scene. They put the fire out, but touched nothing. Smith turned up soon after, followed by an ambulance.’ Jacob wiped his brow with his sleeve. A few strands of his sweaty hair had been left behind, sticking to his forehead.
‘Who found the body?’
‘The woman sitting in the ambulance. She’s being treated for shock. She was just jogging and saw the fire.’ Gina cried out in pain as she turned. ‘Should you even be here, guv? You look rough.’
‘I need to be here. Who could do this to someone? Set them on fire?’ She shivered as she watched Bernard stepping out of the tent. ‘Bernard!’
He removed his mask. ‘Detective Inspector Harte. I was hoping not to meet you again so soon. What the hell happened to you?’
She touched her sore head. ‘Oh this, I’m still trying to work that one out. Any first thoughts or initial observations?’
Bernard ran his fingers through his beard as he spoke. ‘We’ll be able to tell more after the post-mortem. On first glance, it appears that the victim was either dead or unconscious when the burning took place. The position of the cadaver. There is no tension. When a person is being burned alive, they normally clench their fists or show some signs of tensing up. There is no tension at all in our victim. The body appears to have been positioned on the roundabout in a sitting position, legs straight in front and together, and the body has been tied to the centre pole. The position is too neat for a living or conscious person. They would’ve thrashed about. We won’t know for definite if the victim was dead or alive at the time until we’ve analysed the lungs, and we won’t know if they were drugged until we analyse the blood results. We can check the skeletal remains for trauma during the PM. We’ll then know if our victim was assaulted.’
‘Thanks.’ Gina grabbed her pad and managed a bit of scribbly writing with her left hand. As a right-handed person, with a sprained right wrist, she was struggling. The gloves weren’t helping either, especially the one covering her bandage and the tips of her fingers, which looked fit to burst. ‘Time of death? How was the fire started?’
‘We could smell petrol on the grass. The charring certainly follows the pattern of accelerant being poured on the victim’s head and trickling down. The feet and legs are barely burned but the head, chest and arms are fully charred. As for the time, not one hundred per cent, but given the damage and the state of the body when we arrived, I would say the cadaver was set alight within the past hour. Again, I can’t confirm this fact just yet.’ Gina continued scrawling notes onto her pad. ‘So many people walk this route which, as you can appreciate, has made things more difficult. What we did find in the car park was a small pool of vomit and several steps leading from that pool of vomit. We’ve measured them and it looks like that person is a UK size five. There are also tyre tracks which we will crossmatch against the database. Also, we have drag marks from the car, along the car park and grass, which lead straight to the roundabout. We’re just collecting and collating at the moment. Once all the samples are properly catalogued, we’ll let you know straight away of any results.’
‘Anything else?’
Jacob ran back towards Gina, a CSI trailing behind him. ‘They’ve just found a broken necklace at the foot of the roundabout, where the drag marks end.’
‘Was there a pendant?’
‘Yes, it was a little further away from the necklace, but it was half a heart.’
Gina rubbed her temples. ‘Ellie Redfern. Our missing woman. We need an immediate briefing. Bernard, you and your team, work the hell out of this scene. I want to know everything as you find it. I want a sample of the vomit sent straight to the lab, see if we can get a DNA match. Size five shoe. That’s a small foot. A woman, maybe? Our victim? Jacob, I need a statement from the woman in the ambulance. You do that while I make my notes legible and finish talking to Bernard, then you can drive me back to the station.’
One of the CSI’s walked around the tent with a camera, taking photos of everything. Every time the flash was triggered, the park lit up. Gina gazed over the pond and saw a couple of moorhens swimming. They were soon joined by a few ducks. The sun was just starting to emerge. Soon it would be daylight and the officers would have their work cut out, keeping pedestrians, joggers and dog walkers away from the scene. Within no time, the news would be all over social media. She reached inside the forensic suit, swapped her notepad for her phone, and struggled to call Briggs. He’d need to prepare a press statement. Another plea for witnesses.
When she came off the phone, she approached the tent and went inside. She pulled the facemask over her mouth. Outside the tent, she could hear Jacob relaying all they knew so far to Wyre and O’Connor, who had just turned up. As she stepped forward, the smell penetrated the mask’s fibres, becoming more intense, acrid, nauseating and sulphur-like. Within moments the dense smell almost blocked her nostrils and hit the back of the throat. She stepped out of the tent, removed the mask and took a deep breath. ‘Not good in there.’
A CSI looked at her sympathetically. She needed to go back in. The victim’s head was completely charred, all he
r hair singed. Her shoulders, chest and back, along with the centre pole of the roundabout were also charred. A deep mix of red lesions stood out from the sooty skin, as did the victim’s teeth. The victim was wearing jeans and boots. Becky had told them that Ellie always wore jeans and black boots.
O’Connor opened the tent flap and leaned in, grimacing as he covered his mouth. ‘Guv. They’ve just found a small sample of blue washing line cord out here.’
‘Blue washing line? Could it be the same blue cord that had been used to strangle Melissa?
‘Get it bagged and sent straight to the lab. Looks like our killer has struck for a second time.’
Fifty-One
The early morning sun shone through the incident room window. Gina stood beside the board and re-read all the information they had so far. ‘How did you get on with interviewing the witness who discovered the body?’
Jacob leaned back in his chair. ‘Forty-two-year-old Elouise Flanders. She was out jogging. She normally starts work as a carer at six. On her work days she always runs for twenty minutes, starting out between four and four thirty. She basically described the scene as we saw it and she touched nothing. She said the park was deserted, not another person in sight. Basically, apart from being heavily traumatised by what she saw, she has nothing to add.’
‘Okay, moving on. We have discovered a small sample of blue cord at the scene. On first glance it looks like the same blue cord that was used to kill Melissa Sanderson. The cord is currently at the lab for testing, and Bernard and his team are still working the scene which is why they’re not with us now. Our victim was either unconscious or dead before being set alight and was also wearing black boots and jeans. The victim’s boots are a size seven which means they do not match the size five prints we found leading from the pool of vomit in the car park to the roundabout. I checked the details we have on Ellie and she is a size seven. I will also add that the victim’s boots match the description Rebecca Greene gave us of Ellie’s boots.’