Her Final Hour: An absolutely unputdownable mystery thriller

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Her Final Hour: An absolutely unputdownable mystery thriller Page 23

by Carla Kovach


  The woman shook her head and stood. ‘Okay.’

  As the paramedic left, she rubbed her scabbing head and took a few uneasy steps. She’d be fine, she knew she’d be fine.

  Jacob entered.

  ‘I don’t suppose you even got to Darrel Sanderson’s house, did you?’

  ‘No, guv. Come here and sit.’ He led her back to the settee. She stared out of the window and watched as Briggs prepped Bernard and his forensics team.

  ‘I’m fine. Right, get your notepad out. There are all my clothes, they need bagging up. My cat clawed him, I’ve trapped her in her basket. Get a vet to clip her claws. Grab your notepad and we’ll go through what happened.’

  Jacob sympathetically placed a hand on her arm and went to speak.

  ‘Get your pen ready.’ It was going to be a long evening. Her body had been through the wars but she wasn’t going to make a fuss. No one was going to see the thoughts of her past trauma with Terry in her eyes as she spoke of her attack. She wasn’t a victim. She was a witness. Never was she going to play at being victim.

  Sixty-Four

  Thursday, 19 April 2018

  Gina sat at Briggs’s kitchen table, gazing at one of the spare department laptops. ‘Stupid laptop,’ she said as she pressed the same key over and over again. The letter E was sticky and the missing pixels on the screen made her want to throw it against the wall. As she repeatedly swore under her breath, his dog laid its head in her lap, staring with wide eyes that were pleading for fuss and biscuits. ‘Morning, Jessie,’ she said, patting the dog’s head. The dog licked her hand and lay at her feet. Photos of Ellie and Melissa stared back at her from the table. Scooping them up, she placed them back in the folder and poured another coffee.

  Briggs had stayed up until about 1 a.m. He’d offered to sleep on the sofa but she’d refused, sleeping on it herself. After waking about four with a stiff neck, she knew she needed to get back to her house and soon. Would she ever feel safe in her own home again? She made a note to call a security company, get a top of the range alarm fitted.

  Hannah had been confused when Briggs took her to drop the cat off at hers late the previous evening. Maybe she’d call her later, fill her in on what was happening, give or take a few details. She’d miss out the part about the attack in her kitchen and would skip to thanking her for the clothes she’d given her at the hospital. Or, maybe, she would tell Hannah that it was an attempted break in. She could do without her daughter making a fuss.

  Flicking between screens, she tried to take in anything further that would help. What was she missing? There had to be a link somewhere. Selecting the Bruce Garrison file again, she re-read the information. He had a degree in accountancy and business – first class after going to university in London. He continued his studies in Chartered Accountancy and completed an MBA soon after. Her fingers began to quiver. He was in London at the same time as the attack on Lucia Ramos back in 1998. She waited as the laptop loaded the CCTV footage for that night. Her heartbeat quickened as she processed what she was seeing. After the third watch, she selected the CCTV footage from the Angel Arms and watched Ellie leaving the pub the previous Friday. The bus stop had been to the left. Why had she turned right? Dragging the cursor back, she began to sweat as she watched again. She checked the time before placing her phone to her ear, it was six thirty. ‘Taxi, please. Yes, as quickly as you can.’ She crept towards the door, coat in hand so as to not wake Briggs. He’d only try to stop her from following the lead and make her send someone else instead, but this was her lead and she was going to be there.

  Sixty-Five

  The taxi rolled up in the car park, outside the maisonette that Jacob lived in. Gina passed the driver a ten-pound note and walked over to his front door. As he opened it, a tall brunette kissed him and left, rubbing her eyes as she headed down the path and got into a hatchback. ‘You know how to ruin the best moments ever.’

  ‘Amber, your Tinder date?’

  He nodded. ‘I got lucky and you know something, I think I really like her. How are you after last night?’

  The woman pulled out of the parking space and blew him a kiss as she drove away.

  ‘Better after a good night’s sleep.’ Gina knew she didn’t look good. Jacob had been there the previous night. He knew the full extent of the attack. She’d just held back on how shaken and sore she was. After Jacob had taken her statement, Bernard had arrived and taken all the samples he’d needed from the scene, then he’d taken some photos of her injuries. She rubbed the friction burn on her neck.

  ‘You could’ve fooled me. You haven’t slept at all, have you? Did you stay at your daughter’s?’ She wasn’t about to start discussing her evening at Briggs’s with Jacob, even though there was no longer anything to hide.

  ‘I need you to get your car keys and drive me to Bruce Garrison’s. I’d drive myself but I’m not meant to and I want you with me. I have a bad feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach about him. This group of friends, their strange wives. Something’s so off it’s almost stagnant and I’m not waiting a minute longer to find out what.’

  Rubbing his eyes, he left his front door ajar. She followed him in. ‘What do we know?’ He buttoned his shirt up as he scoffed a piece of toast.

  ‘I was researching his educational background and he was in London at the time of the rape in 1998. I was watching the CCTV footage of the Angel Arms, last week, when Ellie was there. She was following a man out of the pub. I have a feeling she recognised him. I’m working on the theory that after going back there to confront her past, she may have come across her attacker or maybe she’d been following him. She’d need to make sure. Twenty-five years is a long time. I think she followed him home. His gait, the way he walks – I think he’s Lucia Ramos’s rapist, and that would make him my attacker. I need to see him for myself, to be sure. Samuel Avery identified that man in the pub as Bruce Garrison. We have to get to his now.’ She snatched the cup from his hands and slammed it on the worktop. ‘You can sit around drinking coffee later but right now, we need to be at his house before he goes to work. Come on.’

  Sixty-Six

  ‘Morning, sweetie,’ the woman said as she opened the curtains to reveal blue skies.

  Natalie tried to roll over but the binds halted her attempt. She’d had a strange night. Dreams of her wedding to Bruce had weaved their way through the nightmares. One of the dreams came back to her, as if struck by lightning. They were at their wedding but Bruce was marrying the woman who was keeping her trapped. Natalie was a singer at the wedding. She’d been watching them as the woman who was keeping her captive took her vows over the ethereal sounds of ‘Ave Maria’. In her dream she’d been singing like an angel, then as the crescendo neared, her voice cracked. Everyone at the ceremony turned round and stared at her. The room was closing in, she couldn’t breathe and she was toppling over. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. It was just a dream – deep breaths.

  She flinched as the cord drove into her wounded wrists. Thirsty, she needed water. The woman moved the gag aside and held a glass of water to her mouth. She swallowed as the woman gently poured. ‘Where’s Bruce? I need to speak to my husband.’

  ‘He’s busy right now, fixing everything.’ The woman stroked her brow.

  ‘I need to get out of this bed. Please tell him to come and untie me.’

  ‘Look, you can help your husband by staying calm.’

  She knew she wasn’t going to win. The woman wasn’t there to help her, she was there to help Bruce. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘You can call me Selina. I’m Rob’s wife. You know Rob? Bruce’s friend? He’s asked me to help look after you. You haven’t been yourself but you will be soon, I promise.’

  She wrenched the binds. ‘I just want to get out of this bed. Bruce!’ she called. ‘Bruce!’ She could hear him pacing along the downstairs hallway. She knew he could hear her calls but he was choosing to ignore her. He wouldn’t hurt her, he couldn’t.

  He thundered up t
he stairs, crashed through the door and pushed Selina out onto the landing, closing the door behind her. ‘You ruined everything. Because of you, Ellie had to go. You did that, remember? You killed Ellie.’

  Natalie’s eyes filled with tears. She’d freed the woman and was letting her go. ‘You’re not pinning that one on me. I was trying to help her. You killed her. You took her to that park, you strangled her and you set fire to her body.’

  ‘And this is why you’re not going to see tomorrow. You just can’t keep your mouth shut. If you hadn’t let her go, we wouldn’t be here now, and, you know what, she’d still be alive.’

  ‘You raped her.’

  ‘I didn’t. She was lying. Back then, nothing like that happened. She was blackmailing me. She knew about Melissa. She was going to send us down.’ Natalie could tell he was trying to cover a lie.

  ‘Us?’ Natalie waited for him to explain further. She knew Rob or Darrel weren’t with her husband on the night of Melissa’s murder as they were in the pub. Had it been another one of Bruce’s friends?

  ‘You ask too many questions. You’ve seen too much and, frankly, you’ve let me down. For your information, I did not rape that woman. She’d come on to me all evening back then. Right, confession time. That night, twenty-five years ago, when you were in London and I’d come back here to see my family and mates, I got drunk in the Angel Arms. Okay, I was weak and she was available. I gave her exactly what she wanted in the back of our car. I cheated on you, yes, but I didn’t rape her. Since coming back to Cleevesford, she must have been following me. The woman was obsessed back then and she was still obsessed.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Tears fell down Natalie’s face, wetting her hair and the pillow. ‘You raped her and you killed her, and now you’re going to kill me.’

  Selina opened the door and crept back in. She stepped forward and held Natalie’s hand. She spoke to her as if speaking to a young child who had just fallen over. ‘It doesn’t have to be this way. You can choose how this ends. You can tell the police your husband was playing cards at our house on the night of Ellie’s murder. That’s all you have to do. You should believe that he is telling you the truth. I know the truth, sweetie. That woman was trying to ruin what you and Bruce have. She was jealous. You’re choosing to believe some deranged madwoman over the man you love.’

  ‘Don’t waste your time.’ Bruce walked onto the landing and Natalie began to scream. ‘Shut her up. There’s someone coming. The damn coppers have been leaving me messages left, right and centre. It’s them.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Selina said as she stepped back.

  He ran back into the room and tightened the binds, fixing Natalie in place. Selina grabbed an apron out of her bag and fed it over her neck, tying it up at her back. Natalie almost gagged as Bruce rammed a cloth in her mouth and re-tied the gag. ‘Make a noise and I’ll come straight up here, place that pillow over your face and I’ll press until you turn blue. You know I mean it, don’t you? Selina, just do what you were told to do.’

  Tears filled Natalie’s eyes and she nodded.

  ‘Ready.’ Selina kissed Natalie’s head. They left, closing the door behind them. She could rock on the bed, build up some momentum. Bang the headboard against the wall. The gag wasn’t too tight. She rubbed her head against the pillow, trying to loosen it, then she stopped. What if the person coming was a part of all this and Bruce was testing her? They’d kill her, but if it really was the police…

  Sixty-Seven

  Jacob pulled the handbrake on. The trees that surrounded the bottom of the garden created an oppressive border, blocking the light from the sun that was just peering over a hill in the distance. Gina ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb out the knots. If he was her attacker, she’d like to think there would be something about him she would recognise.

  The large house stood proud at the end of the drive and the detached garage to the right-hand side looked like a mini version of the main house. She gazed along the top floor. The whole house looked like it needed some attention. The gutters were beginning to fill with moss and debris. Weeds grew between the block paving and the tangled grass needed a good cut. Daffodils randomly dotted the garden, offering hope to the unloved stretch of land.

  ‘You’ve tried him at work, left messages on his phone and dropped notes through the door?’

  ‘That’s correct, guv. Had no responses at all. Robert Dixon’s wife didn’t contact us either after her shopping trip. These people seem to think we’ll just go away.’

  ‘That’s one thing we never do.’ Gina stepped out of the car. Her bruised thighs ached as she stretched, reminding her of the attacker pushing his knee through the gap in her legs as she resisted. She stared at the house and a shudder travelled through her body.

  ‘Need a hand, guv?’

  ‘No. I’m good.’ She wasn’t good though and Jacob could see it. She winced as her stiff joints fired into action. Blood began to pump around her body and adrenalin forced the discomfort to one side. She stepped up to the door and rang the bell.

  They listened. Not a sound came from inside the house. She lifted the letterbox. ‘Bruce Garrison. It’s the police. DI Harte and DS Driscoll. Open up.’ Banging on the door, she waited for a response.

  Heels clipped a stone floor and echoed through the hallway. The old hardwood door unlocked and, from what Wyre had described, one of the Stepford Wives answered. Gina recognised the woman from the case notes. Petite features, perfectly pinned up hair. The cleanest lemon-coloured apron she’d ever seen in her life covering up a petite pair of boot-cut jeans and a crisp white jumper.

  ‘How may I help you?’ the woman asked as she held a duster in one hand and beamed the most false of smiles. ‘Selina Dixon.’

  Gina took a step forward into the hallway. ‘Have we met?’

  ‘You spoke with my colleague, DC Wyre. You were also meant to contact the station yesterday when you returned from your shopping trip. We spoke to your husband.’

  ‘I am so sorry. I got back so late after seeing a friend and, well, I had to be here this morning, as you can see. You don’t look so good, Detective.’ The woman’s smile was replaced with a show of false concern.

  Gina ignored the statement. Her health was none of Mrs Dixon’s business. ‘What are you doing here?’

  She held the duster up. ‘Cleaning. I’m just helping the Garrisons out. They need help with their property. They’ve just moved in and my husband and Bruce are old friends.’

  ‘Is this your line of business?’ Gina pointed to the duster.

  ‘I have no line of business. I’m just helping friends out.’

  Gina walked along the hallway and poked her head through the kitchen door. ‘How long have you and the Garrisons been friends?’

  ‘May I ask why you’re asking me all these questions?’

  ‘Where are Mr and Mrs Garrison?’ Jacob asked.

  Gina stepped into the kitchen and walked over to the kitchen drawers and placed her hand on the one next to the sink unit.

  ‘Do you have a warrant?’ Bruce said. Without warning, he’d crept up on them. She dropped her hand and turned. He was about the right height to have committed her attack. His voice meant nothing as her attacker hadn’t said a word.

  ‘We need a witness interview from yourself. We were hoping that you’d come to the station and help us with our enquiries. We would need to know where you were on the night of Thursday the twelfth of April?’

  Selina began wiping the surfaces with a cloth. Gina could tell there was no effort involved and the woman was trying hard to overhear anything she could.

  ‘What business is it of yours?’ Bruce Garrison asked.

  ‘Well, let me see. A murder was committed that night and your name has come up as a potential witness.’ Gina stared into his eyes hoping for some recognition. There was none. The man had been wearing a mask that covered his whole face. He’d worn coveralls, which removed his body shape. She knew her attacker was strong and that he
was approximately six foot tall. Bruce Garrison fitted that part of the description.

  ‘I gather you’re not charging me with anything, otherwise you’d be taking me to the station.’

  ‘Should I be charging you?’ Gina remained still. He broke her stare and looked out of the kitchen window.

  ‘I was with friends. You can check.’

  ‘Which friends? I’d appreciate their names, please.’ She already knew what his answer would be.

  ‘Lee Munro and Ben Woodward. We were playing cards. You can check.’

  Selina wiped the cooker over.

  ‘Oh, we will, thank you. Where’s Mrs Garrison?’ Jacob asked as he made a couple of notes in his pad.

  ‘She’s not in.’

  ‘We didn’t ask if she was in. We asked where she is.’ Gina stared at him, trying to weigh him up as she awaited his answer.

  ‘At a friend’s. She stayed with friends last night. Look, am I under arrest? I haven’t done anything wrong. My mate’s wife is here, helping me sort my new house out. My wife stayed with her friend last night. All of this has zilch to do with you.’

  Gina walked around the kitchen and her hand rested, once again, on the kitchen drawer handle. She spotted a dent in the cupboard. Was it like that when they moved in or had it been caused in a fit of rage?

  ‘Do you have a search warrant? I’d rather you leave my home, Detective. I have work to do and you are disrupting my day. I’m not saying any more except I was with friends on Thursday the twelfth. Either arrest me, produce a search warrant, or leave before I report you for harassment.’

  Gina smiled. ‘Thank you so much for your cooperation, it will be noted. Mrs Dixon, we look forward to you coming into the station to speak with us today. After all, the man your husband regularly sees has just lost his wife after she was brutally murdered. I’m sure you want to help as much as you can.’

 

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