by Joy Ellis
One of Gill’s detective constables was the first to ask a question. ‘Ma’am, would a youngster have been able to do all that?’
‘Yes, we believe so. We have spoken to Dr Foley, the force psychologist, and he says it is certainly possible. About eighty per cent of juvenile crime is committed at age sixteen. The thrill killer, Judith Neelly, carried out an armed robbery at that very age. Depending on how unsettling or dysfunctional Avril’s upbringing was, she would have been perfectly capable of committing murder.’
She looked around the room. ‘At present, we have three murders and two suicides that can all be connected to each other, and to a single female killer, who we believe to be Avril Hammond. Our problem is that her childhood friends have been traumatised into silence. No one alive at the moment actually knows anything useful about the Hammond family, or else is unwilling to share it with us. Avril took off back in the eighties. We need to find out where she went, what name she assumed, what type of work she did, and when she returned to Greenborough.’
‘Ma’am, why has she just started killing, after all that time?’ Cat looked puzzled.
‘Dr Foley believes that a single incident could have triggered it. Or perhaps she has been killing for years, although not in this area. Possibly dropouts, druggies or street kids. We pull them out of rivers and squats all the time.’
‘If we go with the trigger theory, could it have involved Madeline Prospero, as she was the first victim?’ DI Gill Mercer was doodling on her notepad.
‘That would be my assumption, yes, but there is one anomaly. She seems to be targeting two distinct groups of people. Ones from her past, like George Ackroyd and Frederick and Millicent Cartwright; and others that have no apparent link with Quintin Eaudyke — that is, Madeline Prospero and Louise Lawson.’
‘Do we have any hard evidence that it really is this Hammond woman?’ asked another of DI Mercer’s men.
‘Professor Wilkinson is running DNA comparison checks on the samples found at all the different locations with that of Gordon Hammond. He is looking for a family link. When he finds our common denominator and we can track down a suspect, then we’ll have hard evidence. So far, the evidence is circumstantial.’
‘Are there any photographs of the young Avril Hammond?’ asked Ben, ‘because if so, we could use some computerised “ageing” technology to get an image of what she could look like now.’
‘Good idea, Ben. We’ll be getting onto that straightaway. A school photo maybe. Or possibly there was one in the papers when she originally went missing.’
They continued for another half hour, and then Nikki and her team went to their grotto. No one seemed keen to leave it now, so they decided to keep it as a place where they could escape and get on with their work in peace.
Joseph looked at Nikki. ‘I noticed that you never mentioned your proposed session with Sally King and the hypnotherapist?’
‘The fewer people who know about that the better. The first proper appointment is booked for later today, so who knows? We might have something positive to go on. If so, we’ll share it with the rank and file.’
Cat looked up. ‘Was she deemed a suitable subject?’
‘Went under like a dream by all accounts. The doc has every confidence that the therapy will be successful. I hope so, for her sake.’
‘Are uniform still keeping a watch on her?’ Dave asked.
‘At present, yes. It’s costly, but she could be in considerable danger from Avril. Which means, back on those phones and computers, guys! We have to find out what our chrysalis Avril has metamorphosed into. What pretty butterfly is she now imitating?’
‘More like a death’s head moth by the sound of it,’ muttered Cat. She logged into her computer. ‘Now, how far had I got with this . . . ?’
* * *
At three thirty, Nikki made her way to the old Victorian house where Dr Richard Foley had his consulting rooms. Sally and her counsellor, Julia, were not due for another half hour, but Nikki wanted to speak to him first. What should she expect?
‘Not much this time, Nikki. I’m hoping to get her to talk about her early days with her husband and children. Happy memories. I’ll keep it light this session, and then next week we’ll delve deeper. She responded very well to my initial assessment, and I have no reason to believe that there is any danger in hypnotising her.’
‘Could there be?’ Nikki said.
‘You would not use hypnosis on anyone with a severe psychosis or illness characterised by delusions, or anyone who was an unwilling subject. Sally seems fine. We get on well together, which is essential, and she has a sincere wish to lay her old ghosts to rest, for the good of her own sanity and for her family’s wellbeing. I did a few tests to check her powers of imagination and concentration, which were excellent. She responded beautifully to a light trance state, so we should be all systems go.’
‘I don’t wish to be alarmist, Richard, but this woman could be the next victim on our killer’s hit list. Is there any way the process could be speeded up? Without damage to Sally, of course.’
‘Sorry, none at all. I did say it would be gradual, if you remember?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘But sometimes things come up unbidden, and if they did, and I felt she was comfortable, I would guide her through whatever it was. I just won’t push her.’ The psychologist looked at Nikki. ‘Do you have anything more for me on Avril Hammond?’
‘Not as yet, but we are now operating with a full complement of officers, so I hope we’ll have something soon. I’ll let you have everything as it comes in.’
She told him briefly about the forensic results that had tied the cases together. The doctor was just explaining the difficulty of proving that someone had actually driven another person to suicide, when Sally King and her friend Julia came in.
Sally looked excited and apprehensive, but Richard soon put her at her ease. After a brief conversation, he asked her to lie back on the couch. Nikki and Julia sat at the back of the room, out of Sally’s sight.
‘Now I’m just going to pull the curtains, Sally, like last time. It won’t be completely dark, we’re just shutting out the daylight glare.’ Quiet, soothing music was soon heard playing in the background.
‘Now, watch the light wheel, and I’ll talk you down. Don’t forget, I am someone who wishes to help you. All I am doing is showing you a way to activate inner resources that are impossible to reach in your day-to-day life. You are not asleep or unconscious and you can still speak lucidly. You are in a trance state, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, a place where you can access a deeper level of awareness. Now just watch the light source . . .’
Nikki tried to avoid watching the gently rotating colour wheel. It was all she could do not to fall asleep just listening to Richard’s deep, melodic voice. Julia, the other counsellor, was obviously feeling the same. Nikki noticed her digging a fingernail into the palm of her hand.
The session continued for almost twenty minutes, and Sally had remained relaxed throughout. Nikki was just beginning to think that she should have waited until the next session, when Sally started to move uncomfortably on the couch. Her fingers twisted together, her face lost its peaceful expression and began to contort with anxiety.
‘Everything is all right, Sally. You are safe. No one can hurt you.’ Richard’s calm voice seemed to relax her again. ‘Where are you, Sally? Describe to me where you are.’
‘We are going to visit Granddad. The children have asked to see him. We are approaching the village.’
‘Is your husband with you? Are you enjoying yourselves?’ Richard prompted.
‘My husband is driving.’ Sally’s voice had a strange, flat quality to it. ‘The children are singing. So is my husband.’
‘Are you singing with them?’
‘No. I don’t feel like singing.’
‘Do you want to see your father?’
‘No. I don’t want to go into the village.’
‘Now, Sally, remember that you are safe with me an
d nothing you remember about that time can hurt you now. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Why don’t you want to go into the village?’
‘Because there is only one road to my father’s house.’
‘And what is wrong with the road?’
‘It goes past . . .’ Sally swallowed several times and she began breathing faster.
Richard calmed her again, and then told her to move forward an hour and tell him what the children were doing. When she answered, she seemed more controlled and lay still again.
‘They are playing in the rowing boat.’ She smiled fondly. ‘Dad has an old boat in the back garden. He’s painted it bright colours and sometimes in summer he puts pots of geraniums and begonias in it. It’s empty now, and the children are rowing to America!’
Nikki was dredging through her memory of Quintin Eaudyke’s geography. Bert Gilmore’s cottage was at the end of a winding lane that led towards the marsh. To reach it you had to travel for about five hundred yards down the main road, then take the drove road before pulling off into the lane leading to Sally’s father’s house. She could recall several cottages, a farm and some waste land. Other than that, it was field after field until you reached the marsh itself. She made a mental note to ask Yvonne who lived along that particular route.
Richard was talking again, and Nikki realised that he was getting Sally and her family into the car to go home. Immediately Sally tensed, and by the time he had closed the car doors and turned on the engine, she was fighting for breath.
With a concerned glance at Nikki and Julia, Richard moved Sally forward again, to the moment when she was putting the children to bed that night. In seconds she was laughing, splashing imaginary water onto two giggling children, and holding up an invisible towel to rub and cuddle them dry.
Then Richard Foley brought her back.
Sally stretched and blinked. ‘Oh, that was lovely! I feel so refreshed. I could have stayed there for hours.’ She smiled at the hypnotherapist. ‘It’s better than a night’s sleep!’
He passed her a glass of water and she drank thirstily. ‘I hope I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t?’
‘Not at all, Sally. We just spent some time with you and your family. Now, just rest for a moment or two, and I’ll go and get my diary so we can make our next appointment.’
Julia walked over to Sally, smiled down at her and took her hand. ‘You feeling okay after that?’
‘Brilliant, Julia. It really is a pleasant experience. I can’t think why I was so apprehensive.’
Richard appeared from his tiny office with a diary and a broad smile. ‘Fear of the unknown, that’s all. Now each time you visit you will be more relaxed and open to sharing your memories with me. When are you free next week?’
Nikki was anxious. This was taking too long. There was a psychopath on the loose. They did not have unlimited time, and she could not watch Sally twenty-four hours a day. If the killer got the slightest idea of what she was attempting to do, then Sally had effectively signed her own death sentence. She waited until the two women had left, then followed Richard Foley back into his office.
‘This is really bothering me, Richard. Mrs King is in very real danger. If this bloody murderer gets the faintest whiff of what’s going on, Sally King’s loving husband and kids could be down at the florist ordering a wreath by next Tuesday!’
‘Nikki, I’m sorry but I can’t rush her. You saw her. If I make her confront the traumas of her past too soon, the same husband and kids could be drawing up a visiting rota for the psychiatric hospital. And that would be my fault. I have signed a pledge, Nikki, a code of ethics.’ His voice softened. ‘I know she’s in danger, as are others until you catch the killer, and I will do everything in my power to help, but it cannot be rushed. This treatment is delicate in the extreme and I have to deal with it appropriately, okay?’
Nikki pushed her hair away from her face. ‘I’m sorry, Richard. I do understand what you are saying, but we don’t know where the threat will come from. We have no idea what the killer looks like, and no real proof that it is even a woman. I’ve got a bagful of Greenborough deaths to sort out, and bugger-all leads. I’m frightened that the killer is here among us, and although I’m doing my level best to keep these sessions quiet, well . . .’ She shrugged. ‘By now, we usually have photofits on the TV and in all the papers. “Have you seen this man?” and all that stuff. And what have I got? A supposedly slaughtered child who has risen from her watery grave on the marsh and is avenging her stolen childhood! Great!’
Richard smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry I can’t do more. But if it’s any consolation, from what you’ve told me I think you are perfectly correct in your assumptions. Avril Hammond would have been more than capable of killing her father, and anyone else for that matter.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I promise, as soon as Sally is anywhere near ready, I will regress her into whatever in her past is frightening her so much. Let’s just hope it’s all worth it.’
‘She really does want to do it, and it’s all I have at present.’
The doctor held open the door for her. ‘Then she’s already given you a start. Find out who lived on the stretch of road between the outskirts of the village and her father’s house.’
‘Believe me, that’s my first assignment. Thanks, Richard. We’ll speak soon.’ Nikki stepped out, and then looked back at him. ‘I’m sorry to be so impatient with you. It’s called damage limitation. I’ve been in too many situations where you are horribly aware that something nasty might happen, and in my experience, it usually does. I just want Sally King to live to see her great-grandchildren.’
‘That is my greatest wish too, Nikki. But I also want her to be sane enough to recognise them.’
* * *
‘Yvonne? Got a moment before you go home?’ Nikki said.
Yvonne pulled her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘Certainly, ma’am. What’s the problem?’
‘Quintin Eaudyke. Do you remember who lived where, back in the seventies and eighties?’
‘More or less, ma’am.’
Nikki told her of the strange change in Sally’s emotions when she spoke of the drive into the village.
‘Well, that’s simple. The Hammond cottage was off that road, just before you turn into the Gilmores’ lane.’
‘Oh! But I didn’t see it when we were out visiting Dr Draper.’
‘You wouldn’t, ma’am. All that’s left is a plot of waste ground. Our delightful residents burnt it to the ground, just after Hammond supposedly drowned.’
‘And they admitted to it?’ Nikki stared at Yvonne.
‘Good Lord, no! Those Quintin Eaudykers admit to nothing! As you well know.’ Yvonne laughed. ‘They were no different back then. No one knew anything, no one saw anything, and no one gave a damn!’
‘And it was definitely arson?’
‘Well, the broken window and the two empty petrol cans were a bit of a giveaway. Even I didn’t have too much trouble working that one out.’
‘They really loved Gordon, didn’t they?’
‘Loved him to death, ma’am.’
Nikki watched Yvonne as she prepared to leave. ‘You look happy about something! And considering what’s going on here at present, I can’t think what it could be.’
A wide smile spread across Yvonne’s face. ‘I’m off to see old Fred Cartwright’s neighbour, ma’am.’
‘Dog walking again?’
‘Actually I’m going to collect the little fellow.’ The grin broadened. ‘You know that I lost my dear old Holmes last year? Well, that little chap left a very big hole, and not just in my life, in my neighbour’s as well.’
Nikki knew that Yvonne had “dog-shared” her beloved canine with Ray, her elderly neighbour. The neighbour cared for him when she was at work, and Yvonne collected him after her shift ended. Yvonne did the exercising and feeding, and Ray did a spot of cuddling and watching TV together when Yvonne was working. Nikki k
new that Yvonne missed her old Holmes very much indeed. ‘I think I see where this is going.’
‘He’s called Hobo and he’s a sort of Jack Russell cross. Not exactly Holmes, but I think that’s a good thing. Ray can’t wait to meet him.’
‘You’re a soft touch, Collins, did you know that?’
Yvonne laughed. ‘I reckon he’ll give us back a hundredfold more than we give him, ma’am. I don’t like living without a dog. The house seems dead somehow.’
Nikki loved dogs, but knew that her lifestyle made having one impossible. She nodded. ‘Good for you, Vonnie. Go pick up your new addition.’
Yvonne left, and Nikki was preparing to go when her phone rang.
‘Sorry to bother you when you are probably trying to escape, but I think you might be pleased that I did.’ Rory sounded bright and enthusiastic. ‘I have just finished comparing the DNA samples that we already have from the various scenes of crime. It’s by no means complete, but I have isolated a match that shows up in each one.’ He paused. ‘And, Nikki, when we checked the pair of sex chromosomes, we have two Xs. It’s definitely a female.’
‘Yes!’ Nikki punched the air with her free hand.
‘I’ve already run a search to see if she’s on any database of offenders, but unsurprisingly there’s nothing so far.’ He paused again. ‘And I did a crosscheck with Gordon Hammond. Our killer is his daughter, Nikki.’
‘Well done, my friend! Now I have something other than a hunch to pass on at tomorrow morning’s meeting. I heard some of DI Mercer’s team muttering that it was all a load of bollocks — you know, a woman serial killer?’
‘Offends the sensibilities somewhat. Do you know, I read about one woman killer who injected her victim with liquid drain cleaner before she killed her! Now that’s not exactly what you’d expect from your average Brownie, is it?’