by Farah Ali
Joanne crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. ‘Whatever. He looks like a weirdo to me. Maybe it’s that uniform you guys have to wear. You look okay because you’re cute, but a grown man wearing pink and white candy-stripes? Nuh-uh.’
‘You’re so mean.’ But Mimi knew her sister was right and she felt sorry for Bert. Apart from Mrs Rogers who was the manager at Happy Cones, everyone else who worked there was much younger.
A calico kitten with a red collar meowed and scampered out of a front garden towards them. Cooing, Mimi bent down to stroke it.
Joanne, her mind still on Bert, pondered. ‘Hey, maybe he’s the one who’s been killing those girls?’
Mimi hooted. ‘What? Bert? Are you kidding? He wouldn’t hurt a fly and he’s so timid. Jeez, don’t give up the day job will you.’
‘Shut it. There’s something not quite right with that man, trust me. And they say it’s always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.’ Joanne tugged on Mimi’s arm. ‘Anyway, will you hurry up? Mum’s got dinner ready and I’m starving.’
Mimi tickled the kitten under the chin one last time.
***
‘No, no, no, no.’ Bert banged his head against the steering wheel until it hurt. ‘Stupid stupid stupid.’
But the throbbing was nothing compared to the knowledge that he had failed. Again. There was nothing for it, he had to go home and face the music. Sleeping in his tiny apartment in Deerleap would just rile Alma up even further.
Sniffling, he drove away from Happy Cones, avoiding the rear-view mirror so he didn’t have to look at himself. Taking the long way round Bert crawled along the deserted streets until he was on a long winding road on the town’s outskirts. There was a dingy collection of lockups here, but he didn’t rent one. He knew the police would thoroughly search places like this and it would have been suspicious to come across his car here.
Instead, Bert had built a makeshift wooden shack camouflaged by ferns where he hid the Cadillac before leaving Deerleap and going into the wilderness. He had inherited the car from his father and even though he knew it might draw attention he couldn’t bear to part with it. All he had to do was park and venture deep into the forest, where Alma waited, distant and cold, rejecting him.
‘It’s not my fault, dammit,’ he growled, slamming his hand against the wheel. But it wouldn’t make a difference to Alma.
After hiding the car Bert trudged away from Deerleap, a headlamp strapped to his forehead but not switched on, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His limbs were heavy with failure, but Bert forced himself onwards.
The tread of another person made him look up. Someone struggling with a holdall came to an abrupt standstill and in a series of nervous, jerky movements they scanned his bulky frame with a torch. Squinting in the beam of light, Bert made out a young woman and blinked in surprise. What was a woman doing alone all the way out here? Didn’t she care about the police warnings? Bert stared. Years of living in the forest had honed his night vision and he only ever needed a torch when he was under the canopy of trees.
The light lingered on his cheerful uniform and his soft, doughy face.
Relieved by what she saw the woman set her bag down and hurried towards him, limping slightly and breaking out into a smile.
‘Oh thank God. I feel like I’ve been walking for miles. My feet have blisters. Is this the way to Deerleap Hollow?’
Bert studied her, his pulse rate rising, She was short, tiny in fact, at slightly over five feet with a faint accent, Indian, he thought, and long, thick hair in a swinging plait that bumped against her hip as she moved. She couldn’t be older than twenty-five, tops.
‘Yeah. Yeah, this is the way to Deerleap. Technically you’re inside Deerleap now. Just follow this road for two miles and then you’ll be by a bus stop. But you better get there quick, it’s after nine now and the last bus is at ten.’
She became tearful. ‘Two miles? I can’t do that. I’ve been walking for hours already.’
Bert’s brow creased in sympathy. ‘Do you live in the Hollow? Or know anybody here?’
Despondent, she gazed at the twinkling sky before answering. ‘No. I’ve never been there. I-I ran away from my husband. I’ve been staying in Raven’s Crossing, but I liked what I heard about Deerleap Hollow, so I decided to come here, look for a job and start fresh, you know?’
Bert tilted his head and nodded.
‘But it’s all gone wrong. I got on the wrong coach at Raven’s Crossing—it didn’t drop me into Deerleap as I’d expected. Instead, I ended up miles away in the middle of nowhere. I had to hitch-hike.’ She threw her hands up into the air.
‘I know that coach.’ He gave a rueful chuckle. ‘It doesn’t go through Deerleap at all.’
The girl closed her eyes, exhausted. ‘And I’ve almost run out of money. I wanted to call a taxi, but my phone doesn’t seem to work.’
‘Ah. It won’t work in Deerleap. Or inside the forest. I wonder now, let me think...’
He put a finger to his lips. Finally he sighed and gazed into her hopeful eyes.
‘Well, I can’t let you stay out here all night or in the forest by yourself. I suppose I could drive you back into town. The hostels are cheap in Deerleap, very affordable.’ He gestured behind him. ‘You see those lockups? That’s where I parked my car.’
The girl clasped her hands. ‘Are you sure? Oh, thank you so much. Thank you.’
She ran back to her bag and dragged it along the road. Elated and relieved she never thought to question where Bert had been going before he saw her and why he’d parked his car in such a desolate spot.
‘Here, give it to me.’ Bert carried the holdall for her. It was heavy and lumpy—she had packed in a rush. With a contented sigh, he walked back towards Deerleap shooting sideways glances her way. ‘I’m Bert. What’s your name?’
‘Pari.’
A series of animal cries from within the trees sliced the air and she wrapped her arms around her chest.
‘Pari. That’s a nice name, exotic. You’re hair is so long, is it real? Alma, my wife, loves long hair. She has trouble growing hers.’
‘Oh, yes it’s real. A pain to wash and dry though.’ She gave her plait an affectionate tug.
Any reservations Pari had about being alone with Bert melted away. She thanked her lucky stars for meeting such a kind man in her time of need. For a few seconds her thoughts lingered on the gropes and leers she’d experienced at bus stops and coach stations ever since leaving Robert. She pushed the unpleasant thoughts away and took a deep breath enjoying the woody, earthy scent of the forest.
A lone tear of gratitude slid down her cheek and Pari blotted it with a finger. The past was the past and she wanted to focus on the future ahead. It had been a horrible, difficult journey, but it was all worth it. Anything was better than being on the receiving end of her husband’s punches and taunts. And here she was on the brink of a new life. The mountain rising above the trees made her feel safe—it was an impenetrable barrier protecting her from the past.
Bert scratched his ear as they approached the lockups. ‘So nobody in Deerleap is expecting you? And nobody knows you’re here?’
Pari glanced over, a little puzzled. ‘No.’
Bert nodded. ‘Uh-huh. I see.’ Wincing he dropped her bag and rubbed his neck. ‘I’m sorry I don’t think I can carry that anymore. I had surgery not so long ago.’
‘Oh, of course, I can carry it.’
Pari bent down and looped the strap over her shoulder, her hair brushing against the ground. Before she could stand upright Bert wrapped a burly arm around her neck and squeezed.
‘What are you do—’ gasped Pari.
Bert swore—she was struggling and squirming, kicking and clawing. She was stronger than she looked, but he was stronger. With a jerking twist of his arms her neck crunched and Pari fell to the ground.
Bert grabbed her wrists and dragged her off the road then came back for the holdall. He stood with his hands on his hips catching his b
reath before hiding the bag under shrubbery. He would come back for it tomorrow and hide it further inside the forest, but for now giving his present to Alma was more important.
He slung Pari over his shoulder, switched on the headlamp and grinned. It was like carrying a doll. Whistling a tune he’d heard on the stereo during his shift at Happy Cones, Bert sauntered into the forest, feeling like a hero, fantasising about Alma’s gratitude, twirling Pari’s torch so the light played on the gnarled, knotted trees.
***
‘Well. Well, this is a surprise, my love,’ whispered Alma. She chuckled and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. ‘But I knew you’d come through for me. I always knew. You only needed a little time, didn’t you?’
An absurd happiness bubbled up in Bert and he blushed. Alma mused that if he had a tail it would be wagging. Turning back to the young woman slumped on the dirt just yards from their cabin, Alma’s torch lingered on the girl’s floppy neck and she frowned.
Bert hung his head. ‘I’m sorry. I had to kill her beforehand, it was too big a risk and the chloroform was in the car. But she’s pretty enough for you, isn’t she?’
‘Hush. You mustn’t fret.’ Alma stroked his cheek with rough fingers. ‘I understand. You did your best and I’m very happy with you. I would have liked to play with her for a little, but—’ she bent down picking up Pari’s plait, weighing it in her hand. ‘Such luscious hair, you don’t see hair like this often. Indian you say?’
‘Uh-huh. I think so.’
‘Just lovely,’ Alma murmured. ‘I may keep this for myself. Shame to waste it. I’m sure I can use this, there’s so much of it. Waste not, want not.’
‘And you know what the best thing is? Nobody knows she came to Deerleap. She’s got no family here, no friends. Nobody will even know she’s missing. She’s all yours, Alma. For as long as you want.’
‘Oh, Bert.’ Alma’s smile bloomed. ‘That’s wonderful. You’re amazing. A real man.’
Bert squared his shoulders basking in her admiration. No longer was he boring pot-bellied Bert who was mocked by ruthless teenagers and spent his days serving ice cream—now he was virile and heroic, like Hercules must have felt after completing his twelve labours.
Alma fluttered over to the doorway and untied her black satin robe, letting it slide off and pool around her ankles. Saucer-eyed, Bert stared at her mottled pink shoulders and nippleless breasts before letting his gaze trail downwards to the neat triangle of hair beneath her bellybutton.
In a haze of desire Bert stepped over Pari into Alma’s embrace.
He broke away from the kiss. ‘What...what about your project?’
Alma slid her hand into his trousers and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure. ‘She can keep until tomorrow. It’s late and I’d rather prepare her during daylight. Anyway, I have a better idea.’
She pulled him inside. Bert shut the door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As the days passed the cloud of tension over the town lifted a little. No one was reported missing, no bodies were discovered. To some this proved the killer was from out of town. They hoped he had moved on to somewhere else and taken his deviant desires with him. But the less optimistic shook their heads—the killer hadn’t left at all and it was just a matter of time before another Deerleap girl was taken.
Jack knew the killer was simply biding his time and waiting for the right moment to strike again. Alika, her face puffy from lack of sleep, spoke up. ‘You’re right, Inspector. That’s what I think too. It might be a month from now, or a year, but Deerleap isn’t safe.’
Jack nodded. ‘He’s clever. He doesn’t want to take risks. Never forget he is fully in control. Not us.’ Jack slapped the pin board with the back of his hand. ‘We have to find him. It’s as simple as that. Not only to bring justice to the Hayle and McNally families, but for Deerleap’s peace of mind. We can’t let this happen to another young woman.’ He pointed to the close-ups shot of Bianca’s soil gorged face and the ugly cavity in Abigail’s torso.
‘But we have no leads,’ said Rhea, downcast. Graham rested a hand on her shoulder while Warren stared at his shoes, grim.
They were all depressed. Jack knew it was his duty to energise them and drive them on, but what could he say to make them feel better? The stench of failure clung to the investigation and every day that passed without an arrest, or even a suspect, damaged their morale.
It was the same everywhere, thought Jack. An unsolved case was an unsolved case. It chipped away at you until only a pile of rubble remained. But at least in the city there had been plenty of other crimes to move on to. Deerleap was different.
Jack forced brightness into his voice. ‘What about the house fire angle? Anything of interest?’
‘We’re pretty much done. Nothing stood out. Nobody has died in a house fire for almost seventy years. There’s been some small fires of course, here and there, but they were accidental,’ said Alika.
Jack exhaled. Even though Lila had warned that not everything in her visions would be relevant he was disappointed.
Lila. Worry wormed its way through him.
‘What should we do now?’ asked Warren.
‘As much as we can. Patrol. Study the notes, statements and photos here whenever you can. Talk to people, follow up on every single report we get. We should contact the psychiatric hospital and see if any patient ever expressed a desire to kill or plant flowers in somebody, or anything similarly violent.’
After the meeting they all trooped out with shoulders slumped. Jack returned to his office to email Angus his daily update. Maggie tapped on the door.
‘Someone left a message for you.’
Jack half-rose. ‘Who?’
‘The mayor. He called your office phone but there was no answer. He wants you to call him as soon as possible.’
Jack, hoping it was Lila, sank back down. They hadn’t spoken since the night he’d hit the fawn and given her the Cassandra file and she wasn’t returning his calls. He knew she needed space but concern for her was keeping him up at night.
With irksome hindsight Jack wished he’d kept the file to himself for a while longer—after all how much did he know about Lila? Was she strong enough to deal with the grisly photographs and details of the murders? Yes, she had shown remarkable strength and maturity when faced with the bodies of Bianca and Abigail, but they weren’t members of her family.
And in his arrogance he’d ignored Lila’s uncle’s warnings about her state of mind. Jack groaned and shut his eyes. He had wanted to help her, to take away some of the pain, but what if he broke her?
I wasn’t there for Angela when she needed me. But I’ll be there for you, Lila. I promise. We’ll get through this together.
***
Lila, returning home from a trip to the market, gazed up in surprise. A ladder was propped against the front of her house and a man in a baggy t-shirt was fixing the broken guttering.
‘Morning, Lila. I came to see you and saw this. Thought I’d fix it.’ George pulled his baseball cap off and scratched his head before replacing it.
Lila shifted the basket from one arm to the other and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight. ‘Thank you.’
It was nice of him—he never came to see her and Lila hoped she wasn’t in trouble. At any other time she would have been thrilled to know her uncle had taken time out of his day to visit her, but company was the last thing she wanted at the moment.
As George climbed down the ladder Lila realised she wasn’t wearing shoes. She winced and hoped he wouldn’t notice. But of course he did. Lila shuffled her feet as he looked at her bare toes. The lines on his forehead deepened and Lila braced herself. But George pressed his lips into a thin line and studied her in silence.
His niece’s pallor was chalk-white—it created an unnerving contrast against the shadows around her eyes. She looked thin and restless and he didn’t like the way she was avoiding looking at him.
‘What’s wrong? You look...ill. Is
it your epilepsy? Are you remembering to take your medication?’
‘I’m all right. Just tired. Not been sleeping well,’ she mumbled.
George rubbed his bristly jaw, unconvinced. A blister of suspicion burst in his chest. ‘Has that Inspector been to see you again?’
‘No.’
She’d answered too quickly. George sighed, threading his thumbs through his belt loops and looking towards the mountain, tinted red in the morning light.
‘Lila, listen to me. I think you’d be better off away from here. Away from Deerleap, I mean. You’re not happy, you’ll never be happy here. Why don’t you move somewhere new, somewhere where you can have a fresh start? I don’t understand why you’d want to stay here.’
Wounded, the back of Lila’s eyes burned. ‘But I want to be near you and Daisy.’
‘You can visit...’ George trailed off. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s just—’
‘Excuse me, are you open?’
Lila turned around. A heavily pregnant woman in dungarees had come up the path while they were talking.
‘The shop? Yes, it’s open.’
‘Oh, wonderful. I’ve been told you have a great selection of antlers.’ She glanced at George before leaning in, her lip ring glinting. ‘Also, I was hoping you’d give me a...reading. I really need your help. Do I need to make an appointment? My name’s Patty by the way.’
Lila closed her eyes. A carnival of emotions whirled out of the woman and it was easy for Lila to pick up a couple. Pink balloons with It’s a Girl! emblazoned on them floated around Patty. But she was worried...not about her unborn child, but her...lover? Lipstick on a collar. A man with his hand up a red-head’s blouse.
Lila’s uncle, radiating disapproval, snorted in disgust. Lila ignored him and thrust out her chin.
‘No need for an appointment. Just go on in and I’ll be there soon.’
‘Brilliant, thanks a lot.’
Lila watched her go and then faced George again, crossing her arms in defiance. But her uncle was striding away, anger and aversion evident in his stiff back. Back inside she sat on an old wicker chair while Patty browsed the shop. The phone trilled but Lila ignored it. Her answering machine was almost full of anxious messages from Jack, but she wasn’t ready to see or speak to him.