‘I walked down the road and then...There’s this alleyway that leads down to the canal...I was only halfway down the alley when...’ She choked again and shook her head, dashing tears away with her hand.
‘Here.’ Rachel passed her a couple of tissues from a box on the couch beside them. ‘Take your time, Rowena, and try to tell me what happened.’
Rowena drew a long, deep breath, ‘I heard someone...behind me...footsteps...I started to hurry...but they went faster, too. I was almost running when someone caught hold of me from behind. I...lost my balance and we both crashed to the ground. It—the fall must have stunned me because the next thing I knew...this...this person was on top of me. I tried to scream but he stuffed something in my mouth...some horrible oily rag. I thought I was going to suffocate. He was tearing at my clothes...I struggled and struggled but I couldn’t...’ She began to weep again profusely.
‘Did he rape you, Rowena?’ asked Rachel gently, holding the girl’s hands tightly.
‘Yes...’
Rachel remained silent for a long moment. The only noise in the room was the ticking of a clock over the door and the muffled sound of Rowena’s sobs. ‘And what happened afterwards?’ asked Rachel at last.
‘I...I thought he was going to kill me,’ whispered Rowena. ‘He had his hands around my throat and was squeezing. There was a noise at the end of the alleyway—it distracted him...I managed to get the rag out of my mouth and screamed. I screamed as loud as I could...’
‘And what happened?’
‘There were people at the end of the alley—they must have heard me. He...he...must have panicked. He punched me.’ She lifted her hand to a reddened area at the side of her face, ‘then he ran off. The people came and found me and took me home...My father called the police...’
‘Did you get a look at him—would you be able to give the police a description?’ asked Rachel after a moment.
‘No,’ Rowena replied slowly. ‘He had something over his head, something dark—a balaclava, I think.’
‘Can you remember anything at all about him?’
‘He smelt of cigarettes—tobacco.’
‘Well done, Rowena,’ said Rachel. ‘I will have to examine you,’ she added. ‘You do understand that?’
‘Don’t you believe me?’ asked Rowena, looking up at her, her eyes filled with dull pain.
‘Of course I do,’ Rachel replied. ‘But it isn’t a question of whether or not I believe you. When this man is caught we need to have proof of what he did to you. Now, I have to ask you—you haven’t bathed or showered since the attack, have you?’
Rowena shuddered violently again. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I wanted to—I really did, I feel so dirty, but—’
‘You can, just as soon as I’ve carried out my examination and taken samples for DNA testing,’ Rachel said. ‘If you wouldn’t mind climbing up onto the couch, we will get this over just as quickly as possible.’
When Rachel had completed her examination and taken the necessary DNA samples, she left Rowena in the capable hands of the WPC and returned to Nick’s office. He was on his own, with no sign of Terry either in the office or in the larger control room where night staff presumably were still dealing with Kaylee Munns’s murder.
‘All finished?’ asked Nick as she came into the room, closing the door behind her.
‘Yes,’ Rachel replied. ‘I’ve examined her and taken samples that will, of course, go to the lab for testing. I’ll write up a report and let you have it as soon as possible. She has refused the morning-after Pill on religious grounds but she has agreed to an HIV test.’
‘Any preliminary thoughts?’ Nick’s eyes narrowed.
Rachel perched on the edge of his desk. ‘I would say she certainly was raped—there were definite signs of a fierce struggle. I would also go so far as to say that it was only through the intervention of the passers-by that she escaped with her life.’
‘She told you he tried to kill her?’
‘Yes.’ Rachel nodded. ‘She said he had his hands around her throat and was squeezing. Apparently he’d previously pushed some sort of rag into her mouth but she managed to pull it out and scream for help. Just before the people came to her rescue she said he punched her on the side of her face.’
‘Is there evidence of that?’ asked Nick.
‘Oh, yes,’ Rachel replied. ‘A huge bruise is already forming.’
‘You spoke of other signs of a struggle—can you be more specific?’
‘Well, several fingernails were broken—she’d scratched him and I was able to take samples from under the nails that were still intact. She had several areas of bruising on her body and there were definite marks around her neck, which would confirm her story of him having tried to strangle her. It will all be in my report, Nick.’
‘OK, thanks.’ With a sigh he leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. ‘No other impressions?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, did she talk about her family, her boyfriend—anything like that?’
‘She did.’ Rachel frowned. ‘But hasn’t she given a statement to your boys?’
‘She wasn’t saying too much when she came in—she was pretty traumatised. In these cases the victim will very often open up to a doctor where they won’t to any of us.’
‘She only really mentioned her parents in passing, in that she didn’t call them when she couldn’t get a cab because she decided the walk might help her headache—likewise her boyfriend.’
‘Did she say anything else about him?’
‘Only that they have only been going out for about three months and that they met at their local church. You’re not thinking he did this, are you?’ Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at him.
‘Rachel, I’m keeping an open mind at the moment. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the years it’s that everyone in any case is a potential suspect.’
‘Yes, quite,’ she agreed. ‘Well, just as long as you get the right man. Rape is a nasty business, Nick. That young woman will be severely traumatised for years, and there’s a very good chance she won’t ever get over it.’
‘I know.’ He inhaled deeply then, his gaze meeting hers, he added, ‘I do know, but my immediate concern has to be that I now not only have an unsolved murder on my hands but also rape and an attempted murder. Two worryingly similar crimes.’
‘Big stuff for Westhampstead,’ said Rachel softly.
‘You can say that again.’ Lowering his arms, Nick pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you home.’
‘You don’t have to,’ she replied lightly, at the same time desperately hoping he would. ‘I’m sure that charming PC who brought me here will do the honours again.’
‘No need,’ he said. ‘I’m going home myself—contrary to popular belief, we CID cops do occasionally need to sleep.’
Together they walked to Reception and were just in time to see Rowena Woodhouse leaving the building in the company of a middle-aged couple and a rather intense-looking young man with a shaven head and wire-rimmed glasses.
Five minutes later Rachel slipped into the passenger seat of Nick’s car and leaned back against the headrest. Suddenly she felt overwhelmingly tired and fought against closing her eyes, fearful that if she did so she would be asleep in seconds. Instead, as they drove through the deserted streets of Westhampstead she cast Nick a sidelong glance. ‘She’s lovely, Nick,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry?’ He threw her a startled glance.
‘Lucy,’ she said. ‘Your daughter—she’s lovely.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I thought you were talking about Rowena—sorry. Ah, yes, Lucy—she is lovely, isn’t she?’
‘Quite obviously your pride and joy.’
‘Absolutely.’ His voice softened. ‘Do you know, Rachel, I never knew it was possible to feel like that about a child. I just want to protect her from all the things that might harm her.’
At his word
s Rachel had to fight a swift stab of some emotion that was difficult to define. It might have been jealousy, or perhaps envy, but of Marilyn rather than Lucy, because it should have been her, Rachel, who knew what it was to have a child with Nick.
‘She liked you, you know,’ he went on, oblivious to her thoughts. ‘She said afterwards what a nice lady you were. And very pretty, too—that’s what she said. I, of course, could only agree with her.’
Rachel was glad of the darkness to cover her confusion. ‘I...I hope I shall see her again,’ she said.
‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’ Nick paused. ‘I thought your mother was looking rather frail,’ he went on after a moment.
‘She is,’ Rachel agreed, ‘you mustn’t mind her, you know, and what she says...’
‘I never did,’ he said with a short laugh.
‘I know.’ Briefly she joined in his laughter, relieved that the rather sombre mood between them, which had been determined no doubt by the nature of the business they had been involved with, had now lifted a little. ‘But I spoke to my father this evening and he seemed rather concerned that you may have taken offence at what she said.’
‘It would take more than that.’ Nick shrugged. ‘Thick-skinned lot us cops, you know—we have to be,’ he added dryly.
‘Yes, I can imagine...’ She trailed off and looked out of the window. The cathedral loomed above them on one side, a huge dark shadow obscuring the moon, and then Nick drew into the close, brought the car to a halt in front of St Edmund’s and switched off the engine.
‘I know,’ she said in the darkness, ‘that this is a ridiculous time of night to be suggesting this, and you’re probably desperate to get home and get some sleep, but I’m going to make a pot of tea—would you like to join me?’
‘I would hate to go down in history as the only cop known to refuse a cup of tea so, yes, please, Rachel,’ he said with a sudden, deep and utterly infectious chuckle. ‘I’d be delighted to join you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘THIS is very nice,’ Nick said as he followed Rachel through the hall and into the kitchen.
‘Yes,’ she agreed with a short laugh. ‘Pity it isn’t mine.’
‘Who does it belong to again?’ asked Nick as he prowled around, inspecting furniture and fittings.
‘Friends of my parents. They’re abroad,’ Rachel explained. ‘I’d never be able to afford to buy anything like this.’
‘Me neither,’ Nick agreed, ‘but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid I’ll get so used to it that I won’t want to give it up when the owners return.’ She paused and looked at Nick. ‘Tell me,’ she said, suddenly realising that she didn’t know, ‘where is home for you these days?’
‘Well, nothing as grand as this for a start. I have a two-bedroomed apartment in that new complex on the other side of the park, down near the canal.’
‘I’ve seen those,’ Rachel said as she filled the kettle. ‘They look rather nice.’
‘They’re adequate.’ Nick shrugged. ‘Bit basic, but they suit my purpose for the time being.’
‘That being?’
‘To be close to work and to have somewhere for Lucy to come and visit.’
‘Ah, yes, of course.’ Opening the fridge, she took out a plastic milk container.
‘She was right, you know,’ said Nick, leaning on the worktop and watching her as she poured milk into two mugs then returned the container to the fridge.
‘About what?’ Briefly she allowed her gaze to meet his, then at what she saw she looked quickly away again.
‘About you being pretty,’ he said. ‘You always were,’ he went on before she could utter any sort of protest. ‘But now, well...’ He paused. ‘You’ve changed, you know, Rachel,’ he said at last.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, ‘that sounds ominous. Although I suppose it’s inevitable really after all this time that one would look older...’
‘I wasn’t talking about looking older,’ he said quietly.
‘Well, I’m sorry I’m no longer pretty,’ she said with a short laugh as the water boiled and she leaned over to fill the teapot.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly, and suddenly she realised he was right behind her, so close that if she moved as much as an inch they would be touching. She froze, allowing herself only the simple movement of replacing the teapot lid. ‘Your hair,’ he went on. ‘It’s lovely. You used to wear it shorter but I like it long like that.’ She sensed rather than saw him reach out his hand, then was aware that he was touching her hair. This wasn’t happening, she told herself. She couldn’t let this happen. It had taken her months, no, years to get over him the last time, if she ever had. She simply couldn’t let it happen again. She moved away from him on the pretext of taking the sugar bowl from the cupboard above the worktops. Stretching up, she opened the cupboard doors and it was then that she felt his arms go round her.
‘Rachel...’ His voice sounded more like a groan as he spoke her name and even as she stiffened in defence, her whole body as taut now as that of an animal that has sensed danger and been caught in a trap, he lowered his head and began kissing the vulnerable hollow between her neck and shoulder. Thoughts raced unbidden through her mind. It would be so easy to give in to this moment, to allow Nick back into her life, to let him hold her, kiss her, just as he had before. But it wouldn’t end there, Rachel knew that. It would simply be one short step to her bedroom where he would undress her and make love to her. A delicious shudder spread through her veins at the thought—it would be just like it had been between them all those years ago...But as his arms tightened around her and he grew more insistent, from somewhere she drew up the strength of mind to pull away from him in spite of the yearning ache of desire that was unfolding deep inside. The pain would soon outweigh the pleasure, intense and satisfying as she knew that would be.
‘No, Nick.’ Adeptly she extricated herself from his arms, put the sugar bowl on the tray with the teapot and mugs then, picking up the tray, moved past him on her way to the sitting room, ignoring both the deep sigh that came from his lips and the expression of resignation on his face.
‘OK,’ he said as he followed her, ‘but I’m not sure why.’
‘You know why,’ she replied briskly, setting the tray down on a low table and busying herself with drawing the thick velvet curtains. ‘We’ve been there, Nick, and it didn’t work.’
‘You don’t think it might be different now with the benefit of hindsight and experience?’
‘No, Nick, I don’t,’ she replied firmly, trying to ignore the clamouring of her heart, which was urging her to let nature take its course with this devastatingly attractive man. And maybe she should at that, she thought as she sat down opposite him and watched as he sat down on the sofa, one arm along the back, his long legs thrust out in front of him. After all, what would it matter if she had a one-night stand with an old lover? Who would know? Who would care?
‘Is it Jeremy?’ he said suddenly.
She stared at him. She’d completely forgotten about Jeremy. ‘Is what Jeremy?’
‘The reason you won’t come to bed with me?’ he said bluntly.
‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘sort of.’
‘What do you mean, sort of?’ His lips twitched.
‘Well, I am in a relationship with Jeremy,’ she protested.
‘Such as it is,’ he said.
She had the distinct impression he was mocking her so she ignored his last remark, instead leaning forward and pouring out the tea. Her decision not to go to bed with Nick had been because of the way she would suffer afterwards when he would simply get on with his life as if nothing had happened. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Jeremy but she didn’t want Nick to know that. And the more she thought about that, she realised that because she felt that way, her whole relationship with Jeremy would have to come under even greater scrutiny than it already had.
‘Can we talk about something else?’ she said, as she pas
sed a mug of tea to Nick.
‘If you like.’ He gave a lazy smile. ‘What would you like to talk about?’
‘The case tonight, Rowena...?’
‘You want to talk shop.’ He sounded disappointed.
‘It was just a thought I had, really.’
‘Go on,’ he said, taking a mouthful of his tea and setting the mug down. ‘We need all the help we can get at the moment.’
‘Do you think the cases are linked?’ she asked slowly. ‘Kaylee Munns’s murder and now this?’
‘There’s a possibility, certainly,’ he replied, deadly serious now. ‘Two young women, both attacked late at night, both the victims of sexual assault, one murdered and the other an attempted murder, both strangulation...but were you thinking of something more specific?’
‘Not really. Only that...’ She hesitated.
‘Go on,’ he prompted.
‘The canal was mentioned in both cases,’ she said at last, and then suddenly aware of his growing interest she went on, ‘Kaylee Munns was found by the canal and Rowena planned to walk down the alleyway and go home the shorter route, again by the canal.’
‘It could be significant,’ he said. ‘On the other hand, it could be a copycat attack—that does happen in cases like this.’
‘But if it was the same man...?’
‘We could have a serial killer on our hands,’ he said bluntly.
‘So he could strike again?’ Rachel gave a shiver.
‘If he’s a serial killer he will most certainly kill again,’ Nick replied. ‘Our job is to catch him before he does. Which means I’d better get home and get a few hours’ sleep before joining the fray again.’ He paused and threw her a sidelong glance. ‘That is, if you aren’t going to allow me to stay here, in which case I would gladly forego the sleep.’
‘Nick...I...’
‘It’s all right.’ He grinned. ‘Only joking.’
‘I’m sorry, Nick.’ She shook her head. ‘But I really don’t think it would work.’
‘OK.’ He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I dare say you’re right. They say you shouldn’t go back, don’t they? That you shouldn’t try to reconstruct the past, that it’s never the same second time around. I just thought it might be good, finding out. But if you don’t think it’s a good idea then it’s probably best to leave things the way they are.’ He drained his mug then, putting his open palms on his thighs as if in preparation to standing up, he threw her a wicked glance, ‘Pity, though, because it was good between us, wasn’t it?’ When she remained silent, he said, ‘No? Maybe you don’t remember it that way.’
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