Her Final Hour: An absolutely unputdownable mystery thriller

by Carla Kovach

  The woman placed the cloth on the table and wiped her hands on her apron, scrunching up the material and revealing her jeans. ‘I’ll be there later this morning, Detective. Of course I want this matter to be dealt with. It’s such a sad and shocking thing that happened.’

  Gina’s gaze followed the woman’s hands with every wipe. Her heart began to pound. The woman in front of her was too much of a perfectionist not to notice what Gina had just noticed? Had Selina Dixon failed to notice the imperfection in her perfect world?

  ‘It is. The woman was strangled in her own home and another woman has since been murdered. Cleevesford has certainly turned into a dangerous place these past few days.’

  The woman nodded, grabbed her duster and left the room a little too quickly for Gina’s liking. ‘We’ll be back, Mr Garrison.’

  Gina’s shoulder caught his solid arm as they nudged their way through the kitchen door. She flinched, wanting so badly to swear as pain jolted through her shoulder, all the way to her wrist. Her colleagues were right. She was in a state. As he followed them out towards the main door, she caught a smell coming from Bruce. His aftershave took her straight back to the night on Darrel Sanderson’s lawn, where she was attacked. An image of her scrambling under the kitchen table as she avoided being throttled flashed through her mind. Her heart thudded against her chest and the knot in her stomach threatened to eject itself. Her hands jittered as she remembered grabbing him outside Darrel’s house. That same smell had been all over her attacker. He opened the front door and an early morning breeze carried the scent away.

  ‘Have a good day,’ Bruce called as he slammed the door.

  ‘Did you see what I saw?’ Gina glanced back at the house. She held on to the car and closed her eyes. Blood pumped through her body, the drumming sound filling her ears. The smell of aftershave or deodorant that she’d inhaled in the hallway wouldn’t leave her mind. Her knees buckled.

  ‘Guv.’ Jacob ran around the car and grabbed her arm.

  She shook him off and stumbled towards the garage, peering through the little window. As she wiped the dust away, her phone rang. ‘Answer that. It’s O’Connor.’ Jacob took the phone from her trembling hand. Gina wiped the window with her bandaged wrist, then pressed her face as close as she could to peer through.

  ‘There is a black Audi saloon car registered to a Craig Garrison, Mr and Mrs Garrison’s twenty-year-old son. It’s registered to an address in North London. O’Connor’s just confirmed it.’

  ‘I’m looking at it now. I can also see a dent on the driver’s side, just like our lorry driver described.’ She turned and leaned against the garage door. ‘I also recognised his cologne, the same smell as the man who attacked me twice. It’s him. It has to be. He wasn’t working alone. We know there are others. They’re giving false alibis to protect each other. Melissa Sanderson, the night of her attack, they all thought they’d been so careful. Forensic suits, boot covers, no prints, just a measly bit of material that had caught on a rough shard of the wooden chair, tearing the twine of the suit and leaving behind a small shred of denim. Mrs Dixon hasn’t noticed that her jeans have been snagged. The shade of denim we have in evidence matches that of her jeans – I should know, I spent ages staring at it last night. It was them.’ They both turned and looked up at the house. ‘Call for back up now and let’s get every one of the friends brought in.’

  Sixty-Eight

  The visitors were gone. She’d heard nothing but the muffled sound of voices from the bedroom. Natalie frantically rubbed the back of the gag on the pillow, eventually loosening it. The cord binding her slipped off. She spat the cloth out of her mouth and inhaled sharply. Sweat poured down her face as she continued tugging at the cord. She had to escape before they came back upstairs and drugged her again. She gazed around the room. There was a mirror in the one corner and the chair that Selina had been sitting in. She was about to shatter and break the world around her. She’d avoided any form of confrontation all her life but now, she was ready for it. Her life depended on her giving her escape attempt everything she had. As she tugged at her wrists, shaving off another layer of skin, she felt her blood begin to seep. The bind on her left wrist loosened and she yelped as her raw wrist slipped through the tiny gap, taking even more skin with it. She snatched her burning wrist to her chest, shaking blood all over the blanket.

  Struggling one handed, she managed to loosen the other bind on her other wrist, until it fell to the floor. Lying on her back for so long had stiffened her bones. With both hands free, her bones crunched as she forced her rigid body forward and fumbled with the binds on her ankles. She was free. She flipped her legs onto the floor and they almost gave way. With each step, her muscles strengthened. As she neared the door, the voices got louder.

  The woman spoke as they reached the top landing. ‘Why are they still there? They can’t find her in that room, gagged and tied to the bed. We can finish her off and dispose of the body as soon as they’ve left. It would be quick. It was part of the plan anyway. Just go in there, hold a pillow over her head and it will all be over. Between us, we can hide her for now. The story will be she went to a friend’s for the night and never came home.’

  ‘I’ve planned for this should it go totally wrong. I’ve always had a back-up plan in place, throughout my life. I have money and false ID. They’ll never get to you, Rob or Darrel. I have enough money stashed away to last me a very long time. Rob is my oldest mate and you’re a good woman.’

  What the hell was her husband playing at? Not content with making her feel as though she’d lost her sanity, ruining her dreams, making her so scared that she’d been a prisoner in her own home – he was going to kill her. She closed her eyes as they both talked through their plans. She visualised her attack on them. Whatever she did, she would go at them with full force. She wanted to survive.

  ‘Why aren’t the cops going?’ Selina asked.

  The police were still there. They were around the front of the house, she was positioned at the back of the house. Now was her chance as they’d soon be gone. Sweat dripped down Natalie’s forehead as she visualised running down the stairs – she wouldn’t trip. Then she’d fling open the front door and run to the detectives for protection. As she imagined running out onto the drive, her chest began to prickle and sweat dampened her hair. Her heart rate sped up and she gasped for breath. No, this wasn’t the time to get into a panic. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. It was time to take control of her life. Whether she won or lost the next stage of the battle, it didn’t matter, because if she simply lay there, she was certainly going to die.

  She grabbed the mirror and smashed it on the window ledge. The voices on the far end of the landing went silent. She now had something to stab with should they come close. She shoved a shard of mirror in her back pocket, grabbed the chair and crept towards the door.

  ‘What was that?’ Selina asked.

  As Bruce barged through the door, she crashed the chair in the direction of his head as hard as she could. Pieces of wood shattered, flying in all directions. He went to stand up straight and she grabbed the back of the chair, which still remained intact, and struck him across the side of the head. The man she loved, had trusted, had married and had a son with, was nothing but a manipulator. He was one big lie. The man who’d caused all her illness and misery was now clutching his head. But he was still standing and as he looked at her she could see the rage in his eyes.

  ‘Do something,’ Selina said as she tried to push them both into the back bedroom. Natalie snatched the shard of glass from her back pocket and held it up to her two aggressors. Her husband didn’t lose his strength for long, ever. He was fit and had the strength of an ox, but there was no way she was allowing him to finish her off and flee with his hidden stash, to start a new life. She plunged forward, stabbing the man in the side. Blood seeped from the wound, spilling all over the light grey carpet, spreading further outwards as he lost more blood. For a moment she saw the old Br
uce, the man she’d met as a young woman when she’d been singing in a pub. She’d been so needy and gullible. He hadn’t even been romantic or caring. She’d mistaken his sense of duty and his insistence to be the breadwinner as an act of love. Now she saw everything clearly. They’d been acts of control, chipping away at her confidence until she no longer felt like she had any value to the outside world. He’d played with her mind, twisting and distorting her perception of the world around her, until she believed his lies. She pulled the glass from his side and gripped it as she watched him struggle to his feet.

  The woman kneeled beside him, getting flecks of crimson all over her lemon apron and crisp white jumper. ‘You’re not a killer,’ she calmly said as she stood. ‘Just think of the story we can tell the police now. Wife, already medicated and neurotic, stabs husband and attacks his friend. With you out of the picture, we can say exactly what we like.’

  Selina grabbed a chair leg and held it up, roaring like a rabid animal as she brought it down on Natalie’s head. Bruce stirred and grabbed his wife’s ankle, bringing her crashing to the floor.

  Sixty-Nine

  ‘Did you hear that? We have to go in,’ Gina said as she ran to the front door. The hardwood door was fixed solidly. They ran around the back of the house and tried the back door, it was locked. She gazed through the glass, making sure there was no one in the way. Grabbing the spade that was leaning up against the wall, she smashed it through the door, shattering glass all over the back hallway. She heard shouting coming from upstairs.

  ‘Get away from me. Let me go,’ a woman shouted.

  ‘Mrs Garrison,’ Gina called as she nodded for Jacob to lead. Given her level of frailty, leading could be disastrous. She wanted them arrested and brought in, with no further injury to herself. She heard sirens in the background. Back up was on its way.

  ‘Police,’ Jacob called. As they crept up the stairs, all went quiet. Jacob flung open the bedroom doors, one by one, until he reached the final door. He pressed the handle and pushed but the door wouldn’t budge. It had been wedged closed. Sweat began to trickle down the sides of his face.

  Gina placed a hand on his arm and rested her ear against the door. She could hear a woman crying. ‘Mrs Garrison, Natalie. Is that you?’

  ‘No.’ The woman’s sobs filled the hallway. She recognised the voice of Selina Dixon. ‘Bruce is dead. He’s blocking the door and I think his wife is dead too. Get me out of here. Help me!’

  ‘We’re coming in.’ Jacob leaned on the door, pushing the obstruction away. Blood sprayed the carpet as Bruce’s body slumped forward. Selina Dixon was holding a shard of mirror and Mrs Garrison was lying still on the floor, with a stab wound to her stomach.

  ‘He was going to kill his wife. He stabbed her, went for me and I—’ Selina broke down. ‘I could’ve been killed.’

  ‘Mrs Dixon, Selina, throw the glass to the other side of the room. Let us help you.’ The woman obliged and the glass landed safely, far enough away from her.

  ‘It was self-defence—’

  ‘Jacob, arrest Mrs Dixon while I check the other two.’

  ‘What? They were trying to kill me!’

  Jacob swiftly positioned himself between Mrs Dixon and the blade of glass. ‘Selina Dixon, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything—’

  As Jacob’s words continued, Gina checked the pulses of the Garrisons. They were both still alive. The emergency services had pulled up and entered around the back of the house.

  She stepped out of the room and Wyre ran up the stairs. ‘We need the paramedics up here now. Bag Selina Dixon’s jeans and give them directly to Bernard or Keith when they arrive.’

  ‘On it, guv,’ Wyre said as O’Connor caught up with her.

  Two paramedics pushed Wyre and O’Connor out of the way as they entered and began treating the Garrisons.

  Mrs Dixon’s angry screams filled the house, and Gina could still hear her from the kitchen. ‘I’m the victim here. Why are you arresting me? I want my husband. Call my solicitor now.’

  Gina knew Bruce’s DNA would match that of the London rapist and, in turn, evidence would show him to be her attacker. She was certain Ellie had come back to confront Bruce about an attack he made against her years ago, but that would be harder to prove now Ellie had been murdered. A search of the Garrison house and car would reveal traces of Ellie being present. And Gina was also certain that the denim sample they had in evidence would match that of Selina Dixon’s jeans. A warrant would be applied for immediately to search Mrs Dixon’s house. In the meantime, Bernard would be arriving with his crime scene investigation team. A flash of images went through her mind. The CCTV of the London rape, the CCTV outside the Angel Arms and her masked attacker on both occasions. Her legs weakened and her aches were getting worse. She was finally allowing herself to feel the pain she was in.

  She wandered down the stairs, grabbed a tissue from her pocket to cover her free hand with and began rooting around in the kitchen. She wasn’t even capable of putting her own gloves on. Bruce hadn’t wanted her to be in the kitchen. She opened the cupboards and saw the cans of food lined up. They were just as Terry used to like cans lined up – labels facing forward, all beans in a row and tinned carrots in another row. It was clear to her that Terry didn’t care about the beans or the carrots, or that they were in pretty little rows. She leaned forward and touched a tin of beans as she thought of Natalie and what she’d been through.

  As she slid open the drawer by the sink, she spotted what they’d been looking for, blue cord on a spool, the same blue cord that had bound Melissa Sanderson and had been found at the scene of Ellie’s burnt body. She leaned on the worktop and rubbed her aching shoulder before running her fingers over her reddened neck. It was also the same cord he’d tried to throttle her with. A few minutes longer, Gina knew she would have ended up just like Melissa Sanderson.

  ‘Good result, guv,’ Smith called through the door, holding a roll of police tape.

  ‘It will be if we can finally get to the truth about everyone’s involvement.’ Who drove the getaway car from her attack? Was it Lee, Rob, Dan, Ben, Darrel or Selina? She was going to bring them all down for conspiracy at the very least. For now, she was going to interrogate the hell out of them until one of them broke.

  Seventy

  Selina Dixon had been in the interview room for the best part of an hour with her solicitor. Her husband, Robert, was being questioned under caution in the next room, and Bruce Garrison was conscious and being questioned in hospital.

  So far Selina had been tight-lipped, repeating that she’d been acting in self-defence. Every resource had been focused on the case and every piece of evidence was being fast tracked. Bruce Garrison’s DNA had been a match to that of the person who raped Lucia Ramos. He was, without any doubt, her attacker. The tyres on the Audi that belonged to Craig Garrison had been checked and they were illegal. The car had been impounded for further investigations. The tracks had matched those left at the scene of Ellie’s murder. Traces of blood had been found on the dented car panel. Gina was certain they would match Ellie’s samples.

  Briggs walked down the corridor as Gina headed towards the incident room. ‘You left without a word this morning. I could’ve helped you.’

  ‘You’d have tried to stop me and sent someone else. I needed to be there.’

  ‘You may be right on that note. You’ve been attacked twice in less than a week. You’ve gone through hell. I wouldn’t be doing my job now, if didn’t send you home.’

  ‘Please. Just give me a while longer and I promise when we’ve done the interviews, I’ll go home, I’ll rest, I’ll take a few days off, anything. But I need to be here. It’s all coming together now. We have them all on something. The only person I don’t have is the getaway driver from my attack. You made me SIO and I want to be here to finish the job.’

  ‘Okay. Just get it done and do it quick so we can all get some rest. Have you got someone to look after you a
t home?’

  She smiled. ‘Sir, look at me. I’ve been through the wars but you know what, I really am made of tough stuff. I don’t need looking after. I’m going to collect my cat and then I’m going home.’

  ‘You are stubborn, Gina. Oh, while I remember, you should call your daughter. She’s been ringing the station. She tried you at home. I think she’s worried about you.’

  ‘I’ll call her in a few minutes, tell her I’ll collect the cat in a bit but for now, Jacob and I are off to the hospital. I need to speak to Natalie Garrison. I got a call saying she’d come round and wanted to speak to us before she goes into surgery.’

  Seventy-One

  Gina entered the trauma ward and spotted Natalie Garrison in a side room on her own. Smith was sitting outside, doing a crossword in a puzzle book. ‘Is she awake?’

  ‘She was a moment ago. A nurse went in and gave her a jug of water.’

  The woman lay back on the crisp white pillow. As Gina and Jacob entered, she pressed a button to adjust the bed, letting go once she’d reached an upright position. The last time she had seen Mrs Garrison she had been covered in blood from her abdominal wound. ‘Mrs Garrison. I’m DI Harte and this is DS Driscoll. Are you okay to talk?’

  The woman nodded. Her wrists were bandaged and her bruises and cuts had been treated. ‘I’m going into surgery soon but I needed to speak to someone. It was all my husband.’ Her bottom lip quivered and she burst into tears.

  ‘Go on.’ Gina pulled the plastic chair close to the woman’s bed and sat. Jacob stayed at the end of the bed and opened his notebook.

  ‘The missing woman, Ellie, was in our garden. It was on the Saturday. She was watching us. My husband went out there and dragged her into our home. She was accusing him of raping her, twenty-five years ago. It was when I was carrying our daughter. I miscarried her before having Craig. I believe her – I believe my husband did those things.’ The woman looked to the side and wiped her eyes. ‘He kept her in the same room as he kept me. I tried to call you. He’d left your number and address on the kitchen table. DI Gina Harte was the name on the scrap of paper. That’s you, isn’t it?’