Christian held out a hand. “No trouble at all. Here, take my arm. It’s a bit dark, and you don’t want to slip in those high heels on these damp leaves. My car’s just over here.”
She giggled again and then hiccupped. “Oops! Too much to drink! Such nice manners you have. Charmed, I’m sure.” She laughed again and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and Christian led her across the car park.
He felt excitement building inside and he smiled broadly. Oh, he could be charming when he was after something, all right.
Chapter Twenty - Christian
Christian decided to play along with his Prince Charming charade to keep the girl enthralled. He unlocked the car and saw her safely into the passenger seat, finding the seat belt for her in the faint light.
“So, Carly, which way is home? Or would you like to sit and chat in the car somewhere for a short while. I don’t have to work tomorrow. I’m happy to go along with whatever you like. It’s up to you.” He liked the way she turned to stare at him, a slow sexy smile playing around her mouth. She was more common than her looks suggested, but it didn’t matter. All women turned out to be the same beneath their exterior.
“Ooh, aren’t you polite, asking a lady what she’d like to do! It’s still not too late, so let’s go for a drive, shall we? I know a good place near my home village. Chinthurst Hill along Chinthurst Lane…it’s just beyond Wonersh. We won’t be disturbed there, and we can get to know each other.”
She snuggled down in the car once Christian drove away from the Art Centre, and he stole a glance her way. Her skirt had ridden up her legs, displaying pale, slender thighs. Like a lot of young women, she wore no stockings or tights, even though it was autumn. He liked what he saw, and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip as his mouth dried. Already, he could feel himself hardening, his groin tightening as he thought about what was to come next.
“I’m Christian, by the way. Christian Hart. My friends call me Chris.”
She turned to study him up and down, and he heard the warmth in her voice. “I love that name. It reminds me of that gorgeous sexy actor, Christian Cooke. He’s so hot. I’ll call you Christian—it’s too nice to shorten.”
“You’re pretty hot yourself, but I think you know that. We clicked as soon as we saw each other, didn’t we?”
Her laughter sounded coy as she tossed her head back, her dark curls falling deliciously over her shoulders, and she leant nearer to him, her right breast brushing his left arm. “What I think is that you and I understand one another perfectly.” Her nails tightened on his thigh.
***
“It’s not too far now…slow down a bit. There! See the turn-off? We won’t be disturbed in the woods while we have our little ‘chat’.”
Christian smelt the alcohol on her breath. She was quite tiddly, and he was sure the cider had loosened her inhibitions. He checked his rear mirror, but the road appeared empty behind as he swung onto a dirt track.
“How far does this go? Is it just the one entrance?”
“A couple hundred metres into a small car park. People use it during the day when they walk their dogs. There’s another entrance a bit further along I think.”
Christian filed the information away in case he needed a quick getaway. The track was bumpy and pot-holed in places. He drove slowly through the muddy water, careful not to splash his car too much. Overhead, he could see a thick canopy of leaves where the trees met. Little moonlight would penetrate. The track suddenly veered to the right, and they found themselves in a car park. The place was as she had described: deserted.
“This will do,” Carly said, pointing to a small layby off the car park. A huge oak tree acted as a natural barrier. He could tuck the car behind it.
Christian stopped the car and switched off the lights. It took a little time for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He felt her move restlessly in her seat next to him and not wanting to put her off, he took his time before he put his arm round her shoulders and one hand under her chin.
He inhaled her scent, a mix of something spicy, infused with stage make-up, alcohol and a little sweat. His groin ached in anticipation.
She met his mouth with parted lips, their tongues entwined; she sucked on his lower lip. His hands moved down and across her chest, one hand burrowed under her soft white sweater, while he slipped his other up her bare thigh. She wriggled in anticipation, and Christian knew he had been right when he stalked her. She was no innocent virgin, and he was going to give her exactly what she wanted…and more.
Her breasts were full and soft, her thighs velvety smooth and taut. She gasped when his fingers pushed aside the silk of her knickers and dipped inside her wet cleft. Within minutes, he climbed over the handbrake, put her seat right back and straddled her hips. Eagerly, she paused long enough to lift her sweater over her head and unclip her bra. In the dark, her breasts were white, almost translucent in the faint moonlight. She reached down and unzipped his trousers, stroking along the shaft of his cock.
“Wait,” he said and thrusting his hand inside his pocket, removed a wrapped condom. “We don’t want any accidents, do we?”
She giggled. “You really think of everything.” She watched as he eased it over his erection and then sighed as he grasped her to him.
She squealed in pleasure as he plunged, meeting him thrust for thrust, his erection driving him on and on. Afterwards, they clung together, breathing deeply and, despite the cool night, dripping with sweat.
“Hmm,” she said, and he could see her mouth grinning at him in the pale light. “That was better than I anticipated. Your cock might not be the biggest, but I do like a responsive lover. Some men know nothing about making a woman happy. I’ve often thought there’s more sex in my little toe than they have in their dicks.” He felt himself shrivel inside at her careless words. Little bitch. He would show her. They always spoilt things by not keeping their mouths shut. He thought about his next move, and as her hands gripped him, he felt his penis gradually responding. She was about to experience the performance of her life.
“And which little toe would that be, darling?” he asked.
“Ha! You’re funny. Let’s say my right one!”
“I’ll remember that. Look, I know it’s no longer summer, but it’s not that cold, and I have a blanket in the boot. Shall we explore some more? You haven’t seen anything yet.”
She giggled. “You bet! I’m sure you can keep me warm. Besides, I need a wee.” After he had climbed off her, they both got out of the car, and Christian fetched the rug and spread it over a small grassy stretch a few feet behind the car. So far, she had been completely accommodating. He wondered how far he could go before she refused his attentions. He took a fresh condom from its packet.
She squatted down on the grass and removed her skirt; she was about to step out of her knickers when he grabbed at them and tore them from her. She squealed in excitement and then laughed as he spread-eagled her on the rug, pinning her down with his hands while he ran his tongue up between her legs and then onto her breasts. Her nipples were dark and taut; he teased and nipped, stopping himself from biting too hard. Slowly, he moved up her body and then with one swift movement rolled her over onto her stomach.
She moaned with delight as he stroked her bottom, pushing her legs slightly apart to make his penetration easier. Then with one violent motion, he lunged into her, at the same time clamping his hand over her mouth to stop her crying out.
This time there was no indication of gentle foreplay. She gasped in surprise, and then groaned in pleasure as he increased his speed. He slipped his hands round her throat, gently encircling and using only light pressure. As his own gratification increased, he exerted more: tightening, then releasing, then tightening again, every time a little stronger than before. He felt himself slip into that other state…one of complete and utter euphoria.
The girl sensed something was wrong, stiffened and then bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off, but her movement only increased his a
ppetite, and the more she wriggled, the more he tightened his fingers and the harder he fucked. In panic, she groped for his hands around her neck and dug her nails in, drawing blood.
Minutes later, he let her collapse onto the ground. Her breathing had stopped, and he shook his head to clear the blood heat haze which had filled his eyes.
Christian rolled the girl off his blanket and then shoved it in a black bin liner in the car boot along with his own clothes which he had cast off as soon as he could. He would deal with them later. Bonfires were very efficient. He pulled on latex gloves, fresh jeans and a sweatshirt he had left on the back seat and then removed a pair of garden secateurs from the glove compartment of his car.
“The right toe I believe you said.”
He picked up her clothes from where she had tossed them, apart from her knickers, which he tucked around his other souvenir and slid them into a sealable kitchen bag. Her handbag was still in the well of the front passenger seat, and he threw it down separately beside her other items and gathered them into a small pile. Casting his eye around to ensure he was still alone, he then removed a paint aerosol and gas lighter from the glove compartment and sprayed the pitiful pile on the ground. His last action was to set light to the girl’s belongings before climbing back into his car and driving off into the night.
The Surrey Punisher had struck again.
Chapter Twenty-One - Ella
It wasn’t until later the next day that I remembered the missing photographs. I didn’t mention it to my parents for a number of reasons. Firstly, I thought Mum would think it odd and be upset, especially after Tim’s praise of her work, and secondly, it wasn’t really any of my business, although the act itself was strange. Finally, I forgot all about it until I heard the local radio news mid-morning.
As I listened, I felt increasingly dismayed and horrified. The newscaster reported the discovery of yet another murder victim. Apparently, the poor woman had been found by a couple walking their dog earlier that morning. They had driven to a favourite local beauty spot, and their pointer had attracted their interest by its frantic barking. They found the dead woman lying naked behind a tree. The details were scant on the ten o’clock news, but an hour later at eleven o’clock, her name was confirmed from information found inside her handbag. I wondered what weird person would burn a victim’s clothes but leave her handbag intact. I assumed it was so she could be identified quickly.
It wasn’t until an hour later that more description was released to the public. Carly Henderson lived in Wonersh with her parents and had last been seen the night before in The Three Horseshoes pub in Cranleigh. The local beauty spot was named as Chinthurst Hill, a place I have visited many times, as I had a school friend who lived along Chinthurst Lane. Her mother owned a riding stable there, and it was where I learnt to ride more than twenty years ago when we were in our early teens. The final piece of news disclosed that this latest murder victim had been a member of the local amateur theatrical group and had been in a play in Cranleigh that night. Knowing the local area, I recalled that the Arts Centre, where local drama groups performed, was just across the road from the pub where she had last been seen.
I found this last piece of information curious. The woman who was murdered only the week before had been an actress too, albeit a professional. I wondered if Michael was still on loan to the serious-crime team and whether he had any ideas himself about whether there was a connection between the two women.
I picked up my mobile to ring him and then stopped before calling his number. Was I jumping to a silly conclusion?
I thought more about this new victim. It filled me with a particular horror not least because of where it occurred. When I was growing up, my friend and I spent hours exploring the hill and surrounding countryside. I felt miserable because I’d never feel quite the same about the place. It was as if the murderer had destroyed more than the life of this unfortunate woman. The hill had long been a favourite haunt of children and adults alike. Now it was destroyed by this vile act. I closed my eyes and remembered some of the times I had spent there and then imagined the place in the dark—beyond the security of light, everything would appear indistinct. Shadows layered upon shadows. No, within the space of a few hours everything familiar had been fundamentally changed. I hated it.
Feeling unsettled and depressed, I decided to go into town. I had a long list of things I needed to buy before my holiday came to an end, including ideas for Christmas which was only a couple of months away, and thought a spot of shopping might take my mind off the day’s ghastly news.
***
I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon shopping in Guildford, and as I passed the art gallery at the top of the high street, I recalled the empty wall in Tim’s apartment. I lingered outside the shop, gazing absent-mindedly at a rather large abstract. I had no idea what its composition represented. I usually hated modern art like that, and the piece on display was no exception. Give me a real picture any time.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t seem right in your living room,” said a familiar voice in my ear. At the same time I felt a hand on my waist, and I jumped violently before glancing round. “Far too massive.”
“Liam! You startled me.” I smiled to cover my embarrassment. “You shouldn’t do that to people, and how do you know how large my living room is? Actually, I hate it, don’t you?”
His green eyes gleamed with mischief, but I noticed they still conveyed a look of exhaustion.
“It’s a hideous painting. But why can’t I goose you? It’s a sad thing if a fella can’t play a joke on a wee girl now and again,” he replied in a fake Irish accent far broader than he normally used.
“Not on call today?” I changed the subject and took a step away. He was standing pretty close to me, and although attractive, somehow, Liam didn’t do it for me.
He ran a hand through his gorgeous dark-red hair. “No. I’ve had a couple of days off. Back on tomorrow. Fancy a coffee or tea?”
“Um,” I hesitated. I knew he would ask me out again, and it was difficult saying no every time when we worked so closely together. I suppose I could fall back on the old ‘better we don’t get too friendly, as we’re on the same work team’ line.
“Come on. Promise I won’t bite. You’ve put me off for too long.” He grabbed my arm and marched me into the café next door before I had time to argue.
“Find us a nice table and I’ll get the coffee. What will you have? Latte, cappuccino, espresso or tea?”
“Cappuccino please. Skinny milk.”
Liam returned with the coffee, accompanied by a couple of Danish pastries. He caught my exasperated expression and grinned at my discomfiture, pointing to the plate. “I assumed that because you forgo full cream milk in coffee, then you can afford to eat a Danish.”
“You assume wrong. I’m on a diet.”
“Stop complaining. You’re hardly fat, and besides, I like a curvy girl.”
I pulled a face but took one of the pastries nevertheless. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that word recently. I’m going to get paranoid.”
Liam leant back, hands in his pockets and studied me. “Sister Mallory, you can be a real pain at times. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, live a little and eat your bun.”
I relented, laughed at his ridiculous faux Irishness and took a bite. As I knew it would be: delicious.
“So what have you been up to?”
“This and that. I’ve achieved what I planned with decorating my apartment. It looks really snazzy. You know the auction rooms in Godalming? I picked up a few choice items there last week. I went over my budget really, but I love my purchases, and as my mum always says, it’s only money. What about you?” I licked lemon curd from my fingers in between talking.
“No, I hate decorating.” He placed his coffee cup back in its saucer and picked up the remaining Danish pasty. As he took a bite, I noticed the backs of his hands had scratch marks.
“No, silly. I meant have you done anything int
eresting on your days off?”
He sat back as if thinking then shook his head. “Nope. Nothing much. Read a bit, walked a bit. Caught up on the laundry. I felt like some time on my own.”
“My, don’t you live an exciting life, and you accuse me of not living! Have you got a cat? Only, you’ve scratched yourself.” I pointed, indicating his hand holding his pastry.
Liam glanced down. “No, can’t abide them. I must have done that when I was out walking yesterday. Come to think of it, there was one particularly thorny path I took by accident.”
“Oh, where was that?”
He shrugged. “A new walk for me on Chinthurst Hill, I think it’s called. Do you know it?”
Chapter Twenty-Two - Ella
I was taking a mouthful of coffee at the time he answered me and nearly spluttered into it. How peculiar that I had been thinking about my childhood haunt only that morning. No. Perhaps even more of a coincidence was that Liam had been there recently, too.
“I know it well. I used to go riding up there. I didn’t realise it was brambly now. I remember there being some good bridle paths.”
“There still are. I just wandered away from the more public paths and found myself round the back of the hill looking down on a village. There are plenty of brambles along the hedgerows.”
“I know exactly where you mean. That side of the hill is pretty steep. When I was younger, we went sledging there one winter. I remember it being fun but a bit dangerous. If you let your sledge run away with you, you were in danger of smashing into the fence running across the bottom.” I smiled as I recalled my schooldays. “Fancy you going up there. I haven’t been that way for ages.”
“As I said, it was my first time up there. Lovely views and very picturesque.”
“Yes it is.” I wondered if he had heard the news. Had he just said was up there yesterday? “When did you say you were up there? Did you know they found a body up there today?”
The Green Room Page 9