The Killer's Girl: A completely nail-biting crime thriller (Detective Morgan Brookes Book 2)

by Helen Phifer

  ‘This is a long shot, but did you know Gabrielle Stevens?’

  She was in the process of putting the stack of books in the car and turned to him. ‘Not on a personal level, but I recognised her photograph in the paper, and I do remember seeing her around. She was a little older than the other kids, so I noticed her. It’s so awful what happened to her.’

  ‘How about Isaac Cross?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Is he a student? I’m pretty new.’

  ‘No, he teaches psychology, I think. Thank you, I’m sorry to have kept you.’

  She grinned. ‘That’s okay, it’s not every day I get interrogated by a nice policeman.’

  ‘How did you know? I never said.’

  ‘I might teach art, but that’s a Cumbria Constabulary lanyard around your neck, peeking out of the collar of your shirt. You’re wearing a suit and looking for Morgan, who you just told me is a detective. I’d say you’re either her boss or a colleague, maybe her boyfriend, possibly all three.’

  He laughed. ‘We work together.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good then. Well, if you get lonely and want some company, you know where I live. I cook a mean spaghetti bolognese and always have plenty of wine in the fridge. See you around, hopefully. I’m Emily.’

  She got into her car and drove off, leaving him a little speechless at what had just happened. Had she been flirting with him? Surely not. It had been that long he had no idea, and even though she was a little too forward and not his type, he felt flattered.

  He let the front door slam shut behind him and crossed to Morgan’s front door, avoiding looking at the staircase. He could understand Morgan being able to come back here because she had been unconscious when she’d been attacked. It was him who had the memory of her dangling from the banister, choking to death, ingrained in his mind. He rang the video doorbell she’d had installed and knocked on the door for good measure. He could hear nothing from inside. Leaning forward, he pressed his head against the door and whispered: ‘Where are you, Morgan? Please don’t let me down.’

  He left the empty house with a sinking feeling inside of him. What did he do now? He had to speak to her but he couldn’t sit around waiting for ever. He had leads to follow on two murder cases. He googled ‘Isaac Cross Psychotherapist’ on his phone and found a link to his website. He clicked on the image of the man with a thick head of hair and dark stubble. He looked to be in his late-twenties, so he was around the right age to be Taylor Marks. He didn’t look anything like Morgan, but not all siblings looked alike, that didn’t mean anything. He would go and speak to him in person. He liked to think that his copper’s nose would tell him if he was on the right wavelength.

  Isaac’s home/office address was at the bottom of the page. Could it be this easy? Was he about to catch the killer? He hoped not for Amy’s sake. He didn’t think she’d forgive him for this and he wondered if he should ask her to come with him. Then he realised he couldn’t because of the family connection, and if he was wrong then it might do irreparable damage to the relationship she had with Isaac.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Amy found it hard to believe that Gary Marks was Morgan’s dad. She either didn’t know about him or she was very good at misleading people. Reading about his gruesome crimes on the computer in front of her in the small library, it was hard to contain her emotions and her language. At least at work she could talk and swear to herself loudly; next to her were three pensioners all trying to log on to the computers and it was painful listening to them asking each other how to do it. At least they were learning, that was good and she applauded them for it. If only they could do it a little quieter. She was thinking about Isaac and his connection to Gabby Stevens: it didn’t mean anything; she was sure of it. But the knowledge sat heavy on her chest. She would rather ask him outright, face to face. She would know if he was lying, she was sure of it. She’d always been close to her cousin, Sophie, so had hung out a lot with her and Isaac since they’d started dating. She thought that he’d become a friend. She tried to remember if it had ever been mentioned about him being adopted though. She was sure Sophie had never said anything. She looked around the small library that was outdated by at least twenty years. It was a shame because this place was more of a community hub than the actual community hub on the main street. Sighing, she grabbed her bag and slipped out, unnoticed.

  Isaac’s house was on a newer estate. It was a good ten-minute drive, and she really should be on her way to Child Services, but she had to speak to him. She phoned him before she set off to make sure he was home. The phone rang and rang. When he answered it, he was breathless.

  ‘Did I disturb you?’

  His breathing was laboured, and then laughter filled her ears.

  ‘No, I’ve been out walking. I left my phone behind and could hear it ringing from outside. I rushed to answer it because I knew it might be someone important. I shouldn’t have bothered.’

  ‘Charming.’ He didn’t mean it. He was joking; she knew that.

  ‘Can I come see you? We need to talk.’

  ‘Well you can, I’ve got a client later. What time are you thinking of?’

  ‘Now, if it’s okay.’

  ‘Fine by me. Are you bringing coffee, or should I turn the coffee machine on?’

  ‘You can make them; I can’t be bothered going to a café and waiting ages to get served.’

  ‘What’s this about, Amy? You sound a little strained.’

  She shook her head. Damn he was perceptive, which is probably why he made such a great therapist.

  ‘Work stuff.’

  ‘Okay, are you coming on your own?’

  ‘Yes.’ She ended the call, hating that she was in this situation and having to doubt her own friend’s innocence. Who was the most likely out of Isaac or Morgan to be a killer? She knew she’d be devastated to find out it was either of them.

  When she arrived, the house had all the curtains and blinds drawn, which wasn’t like Isaac. He usually put her to shame in the domestic department. Parking across his drive she walked up the short path and knocked on the door. It was ajar and opened slightly.

  ‘Isaac.’ There was no reply, so she shouted a little louder as she stepped inside. ‘Isaac.’ As she wandered in and closed the door, she wrinkled her nose and wondered what that pungent smell was.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Morgan stared at the message box on her screen, there was one new message. She opened it and a wave of bile rushed up her throat. He had another victim in his sights; a cold shiver ran through her body. She needed to tell Ben. She rang his phone again and again until the battery on her own was almost dead. Where the hell was he? The only time he’d given up his phone was at the mortuary and yesterday in the prison. She wondered if he’d gone back there to see Gary Marks, then realised that it was possible he was attending Stan’s post-mortem. The drowning feeling as grief crushed down on her made it hard to breathe for a couple of minutes and she stopped, sitting down on a mound of fallen rocks. The river was so loud as it rushed past and she sat there staring at the frothy, bubbling water until it got a little easier to breathe. Across the riverbank, she was going to have to go back across the Potters’ garden to get back to her car she’d abandoned outside the drive. Everything felt surreal, like it wasn’t happening to her and she was an outsider observing. Taking the piece of paper Ettie had given her, she typed it into her phone before it died, in case she lost it. She had nowhere to put the jars of tea, though, and had balanced them on the drystone wall whilst she’d clambered over it. Mesmerised by the water, she wondered what would happen if she were to fall in and get carried downstream, maybe drown. Who was going to miss her? Ettie was lovely, but they hardly knew each other. Would Ben miss her? They had grown close and they led similar lives, both of them lonely. Dan might miss her for a little while, maybe Amy, but she had no one who would mourn her properly and that made her sad.

  There was a loud flapping noise followed by a squawk as a raven flew by an
d landed on the wall next to her. Max, it had to be. She tilted her head to look at him, and he copied, tilting his to stare back at her with shiny, black eyes.

  ‘Hello, Max.’

  The bird began preening his feathers, watching her the whole time.

  ‘Did Ettie send you to keep an eye on me?’ She laughed, and the sound echoed through the woods. Get a grip, Morgan, you’re talking to a bird; you need to see Isaac Cross more than you realised.

  As she came through the gate, she saw Dan, not in uniform, leaning on the bonnet of her car. His own car was parked behind.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m supposed to be asking you that question. One of the neighbours phoned in to say they saw a woman entering the grounds of the empty house where a family was killed. When they passed your car reg over the radio, I knew it was you, so I came.’

  ‘Thanks, but why are you not in uniform?’

  She was relieved to see a faint redness creep up his neck. ‘Ben needed someone to help out whilst you’re on compassionate leave.’

  ‘Oh.’ She was helpless to disguise the hurt that filled her entire body and was now etched across her face. ‘He replaced me?’ She didn’t add, with you.

  ‘Only for a couple of weeks until you come back, then I’m back on section. What are you doing here, Morgan?’

  She didn’t even know where to start. How did she explain it all to him without sounding like she was having a breakdown? It was Ben she wanted to tell everything to, not Dan. He wasn’t the one who could help her.

  ‘I don’t know, I wanted to think and clear my head. There are some lovely woods across the river. I went for a walk.’

  Dan laughed. ‘Morgan you’re nuts. You do know there’s a public car park on Grasmere Road where there are actual footpaths and you don’t have to trespass to get to it?’

  She smiled and shrugged. ‘Really? Well you learn something new every day. Sorry to have messed you around. I’ll go there next time. Thanks for coming, Dan.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I have some more crappy news for you so don’t thank me just yet.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your front tyre is completely flat. Did you run over a rock when you drove along the grass verge?’

  ‘Bloody hell, no, I don’t think so.’ She rushed around to the passenger’s side to see her very flat front tyre and wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.

  ‘Have you got a spare?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Come on, you look fed up. I’ll take you home. Then come back with my stuff when I finish work and get your tyre off. I’ll take it to the garage, if it’s still open, then come back and put it on for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Dan.’

  She got into the front seat of his car, feeling deflated. Dan was the last person she wanted rescuing by; he would tell everyone about this and she was under enough scrutiny as it was. She closed her eyes and wondered when she was going to get a break and her life would get better, because it couldn’t get much worse.

  FORTY-NINE

  At the station, Ben walked in to an office containing Des, who was sitting on the corner of the desk – a mug in one hand – chatting to the two detectives from Barrow: Shannon and Tim. He nodded at them. Crap, how had he forgotten they were working from here whilst investigating Stan’s death? He was walking the finest of lines. He should tell them and also Tom about the DNA, Morgan and her brother, but where did he start with that one? He would come clean and explain it all once he’d got hold of Morgan. His phone had died on the way back from her flat and his car charger had decided not to work. He went into his office and heard Shannon call him.

  ‘Ben, can we have a bit of a catch-up about the post-mortem and investigation?’

  He turned and smiled. ‘Of course, I just need to plug this in. Can you give me a couple of minutes?’ He waved his phone at her and shut the door. Picking up his desk phone, he dialled Declan’s office number and hoped he wasn’t in the middle of dissecting someone.

  ‘Good morn—, no, sorry, afternoon, pathology.’

  This must be the lovely Susie with the green hair who was driving his friend mad.

  ‘Hi, it’s Ben Matthews, is Declan around?’

  ‘He’s in the mortuary, but I don’t think he’s doing much.’

  This tickled Ben more than it should. She did need to work on her phone manners a touch.

  ‘Should I go see?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She slammed the receiver on the desk and he heard her yell: ‘Declan, phone,’ in the background. He peered through his blinds, hoping that Shannon wouldn’t decide to walk in before he’d had this conversation or he was screwed.

  ‘Hello, did you hear that? It’s like a foghorn.’

  ‘She’s trying.’

  ‘Oh, she’s trying me all right. Have you spoken to Morgan or done whatever it is you needed to do?’

  ‘No, I can’t find her or I should say I can’t get hold of her, but I will. I’m looking at two detectives from Barrow through my office blinds. Is there anything I need to know before I speak to them?’ He didn’t want to directly ask Declan if he’d told them.

  ‘Nope, you asked me to sit on it and I am, at least until nine a.m. tomorrow and then it will have to be disclosed.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s all I needed to hear.’

  ‘I’m worried about you, about Morgan, about this whole damn mess. You need to think hard and carefully if you, my friend, are walking along the right path. There’s a fine line between loyalty and doing the right thing.’

  ‘I know, just a few more hours. Thank you.’

  Declan hung up. Ben didn’t blame him. He was annoyed and worried, but that made two of them. Where the hell was Morgan? A gentle knock on his door snapped him out of it.

  ‘Come in.’

  Shannon walked in; Tim was still chatting to Des. He craned his neck to look at them. Judging by the laughter they weren’t discussing work.

  ‘What’s up? Take a seat.’

  She sat down. ‘This is a bit of a mess, isn’t it? It must be difficult for you.’

  A voice whispered in his head you have no idea.

  ‘We have very little to go on at the moment apart from the fact that Stan Brookes knew his killer. We’ve collected CCTV from The Golden Ball the night before he was killed.’

  Ben sighed. ‘Had he lapsed? He’d been going to AA and doing so well. Morgan will be gutted.’

  ‘Tim is going to view it, but according to the landlord he ordered a pint and a whisky chaser. He sat at the bar and stared at them for over an hour but didn’t touch them. We’ll check to see if he met anyone there. Apart from that, we have very little to go on.

  ‘Morgan said his friend list was small and she wasn’t joking. His phone literally has her number and his AA sponsor’s along with his landlord and the community centre.

  ‘The occupant of the middle-floor flat is a young lad who is agoraphobic and barely leaves, and when he does his mum has to take him out. He said he has never seen Stan. The woman, Julie Platt, from the ground-floor flat, said she saw Stan come and go but didn’t know him and had never spoken to him. He’s only been there six weeks.’

  Ben’s phone finally lit up and he picked it up, powering it back on. As he did so a barrage of missed call alerts began to beep.

  ‘You’re popular.’ Shannon laughed.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I suppose we could speak to Morgan again and see if she can give us anything more, see if she can account for her movements between the hours of four and six the morning he was killed. I know she’s a member of your team, but she said herself their relationship had been strained for years and they only began really speaking after he saved her life. There might have been some bad blood about the necklace he stole from her. I believe it was a treasured possession and she was devastated when he took it?’

  Ben’s mouth fell open. How did she know about that? Dan, slimy, two-faced Dan who
pretended to be her friend whilst all the time he was stabbing her in the back. He was going to kill him.

  ‘Is that all you have? It’s not much, is it? I told you Morgan was at my house; she stayed over in the guest room.’

  Shannon eyed him suspiciously. ‘Does she stay over often?’

  ‘No, absolutely not. It was Amy’s idea; she was worried about her after receiving the text messages from Gabby Stevens’s phone.’

  ‘That’s another thing I’m struggling with. Why would a killer send her a text message? It’s a bit convenient, isn’t it? Did Morgan know her before she was killed?’

  Ben felt his entire body drain of what little fight he had left in him. Shannon was going after Morgan and she didn’t even know about the DNA. If he came clean about everything now before he’d spoken to her, he was going to get Declan in trouble.

  ‘What are you implying? That one of my most trusted team members killed Gabby Stevens, took her phone and sent herself text messages? Then snuck out of my house to go and murder her dad, who she didn’t have any issues with?’

  Shannon stared him straight in the eye. ‘It seems that I am.’

  FIFTY

  Amy sipped the coffee and stared at Isaac. ‘You look rough. What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  She looked around at the sink full of dirty dishes and the bin that was overflowing with takeaway containers, causing the awful smell. ‘Really, you look like shit and this place stinks; it’s a mess. You haven’t even opened your blinds.’

  ‘Sophie left me. I decided to slob out for a bit and eat junk food. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re dumped?’

  ‘Yeah, it is. I’m sorry, I thought you guys were going to be together for ever.’

  He snorted. ‘So did I.’

  Amy, not known for her tact, decided to ask him outright: she didn’t have time to be wasting here with him. Ben would probably kill her when she told him, but it had to be done and she was the right person. When this was over, she’d come back and clean up, bring him a chicken casserole or whatever it was you were supposed to do, but she had to get back to work.