The Girl Must Die: A Suspense Thriller With a Supernatural Twist

by Peter Repton

  ‘You are fucking insane you mental bastard, what do you want with us, please tell me why do we deserve this?’ David begged. Sammy replied with a gleam in his black eyes.

  ‘You don’t know? That is truly incredible. I now have you both here; now it’s about time for our little party. I'll call it when two becomes one, but not in a romantic way like you planned. Sammy picked up a scarlet robe and put it on, pulling the hood up onto his head he said, ‘Watch and see.’

  38

  ‘We just got lucky again lads!’ Ford said with jubilation.

  ‘Someone called in to report a guy abandoning a white Fiesta in Brigg. He left it twenty minutes ago on double yellow lines. The caller said he was skinny and looked like a Gypsy and watched him hurry off down towards the riverside, and soon afterwards he heard a lot of screaming coming from there. The registration checked out as being Sarah Kempston's car. Because David Kempston is on our most wanted list, it brought up a red flag. Everyone into the car now, we are off to Brigg, I want to be there in fifteen minutes. I just know in my gut that's where this bastard Kempston is.’ Ford rushed from the room and shouted into his phone as he was running down the corridor.

  ‘Get this guy, the one who called in back on the line now; I need him to guide us to where he last saw that Gypsy bastard. I want local uniforms at the scene, but they are not, I repeat not to proceed until I get there understood. I will have all their balls for breakfast if they make a move without me.’

  Roberts, Wilson and Ford raced from the building to the parked car. Ford could not recall ever being this excited.

  ‘What do mean when you say you have just seen him, the Gypsy?” Ford screamed into his car phone as they sped down the A180. The noise of uneven concrete under the fast cars wheels almost drowned out the voice of the man reporting the abandoned car.

  ‘No, not him, the guy off the TV, David Kempston he passed me about five minutes ago.’

  ‘You are sure about this? Where are you now?’ Ford almost screamed raising his voice above the din.

  ‘Yes I am sure it was him. I am out with my dog Rosie,’ the man said.

  ‘That's not what I fucking meant. I don't even care what you call your bloody mutt you dense bastard,’ Ford tried to regain control.

  ‘I demand to know exactly where you are right now. I insist that you stay right there, we will be in Brigg in less than ten minutes. Do you understand me?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I will. But I don't think it is right you started swearing at me like that. Rosie and I are only trying to help you; she is not a mutt either Rosie has a pedigree. Rosie is all I have got left and ...’

  Ford hit the mute button on his phone. He could not deal with inane chatter at this point, his chest felt constricted, he was breathing too fast. He needed to get a grip on himself. Roberts was driving fast, doing one hundred and ten on the near deserted A180 after midnight. Ford noticed a road sign indicating that a turnoff for Brigg and the Humber Bridge was one mile ahead. Just beyond that was their quarry Kempston.

  ‘We are going to nail this bastard tonight for sure lads,’ Ford said as they sped up the exit slip road thirty-five seconds later.

  39

  Jack Ford ascertained that the caller and his dog were waiting by the New River Ancholme Bridge. It was just across the river from the leisure centre. This caller had heard loud screams some minutes before. Jack cut him off as he had another call waiting.

  ‘Ford here what's the latest,’ he asked.

  ‘It’s PC Danny Quill sir. I have just heard some disturbing news over my radio and decided to let you know right away sir. They have found a woman's head stuffed into a toilet at a guest house in Grimsby. They actually found her body lying in the reception area with the front door wide open. An old man's dog was off its lead, and it had strayed into the house, and he found it in there licking her headless corpse.’

  ‘Christ it must be the night for old men and their dogs!’ Ford said aloud, ‘I wonder what that fucking dog's name was,’ he said with sarcasm.

  ‘I don't know sir; do you want me to find out?’ Quill asked innocently.

  ‘No Danny it is OK, have they got an ID on the woman?’ he asked the young policeman who he thought might just about have had his fill of headless corpses by now.

  ‘I don't know that much sir; I just heard the message. CID will not talk to me.’

  Ford thanked him, hanging up. The car was just passing over the Old Ancholme Bridge in the centre of the market town a few hundred yards from their rendezvous point when his phone rang again.

  ‘Hello Chief Inspector Jack Ford, this had better be bloody important,’ he growled.

  ‘I am Detective Inspector Martin Rose of Grimsby CID sir. We have found another decapitated body, but this time it’s on our patch. I thought I would let you know sir, and there's more...’ he was cut off by his senior officer.

  ‘I just heard from one of my officers Martin, is it Lucy Higgins the waitress?’ Ford asked with a feeling of dread in his stomach.

  ‘No sir, it’s not,’ Martin Rose paused. Ford thought he detected sadness in the officer’s voice.

  ‘It’s the hotel receptionist a close neighbour has identified her by her tattoos. But she would not look at either of the severed heads to try and identify one of them as her and ...’

  ‘Did you just say severed heads, man?’ Ford said, ‘Did I hear you right, that there’s more than one?’

  ‘Yes sir, that's the unfortunate truth. One head matched photos we found on the phone of the receptionist Laura when she was still in one piece, and the other head belongs to the missing nurse Kerry Harrison. One of my officers found her head upstairs in one of the guest rooms propped up in a pool of blood on the pillow.’

  ‘Fuck me!’ Was all Ford could utter, his shock so profound. Roberts had never heard him swear so much lately. Wilson noticed how ashen Ford was but he too remained silent. Jack Ford swallowed and after just a few moments spoke to Rose again, his voice now as cold as ice.

  ‘Martin that bastard Kempston just has to be the perpetrator of this. I will need you to show everyone in the area his photo. Then call me as soon as you have some information, anything at all, we may have him under arrest soon, Ford out.’ Jack hung up as the car screeched to a halt. It stopped alongside an old man with a pronounced stoop, wearing a bobble hat and a thick dark coat. He was standing with a group of four uniformed police officers. The man looked at the three men who jumped out of the car through his bifocals, saying to his dog.

  ‘Here is that nasty man now Rosie.’ Ford composing himself a little spoke a lot softer to the man than he had in the car, asking.

  ‘Hello Sir, time is of the essence where you did you last see this man Kempston?’

  The man looked across the road and pointed with a shaking finger across to the industrial park and stammered.

  ‘He went down there.’

  Ford's tone changed. He said to the uniformed police officers in a firm, commanding voice.

  ‘Right you lot I want three of you to spread out. Cover all the exits from this place and you my son you are coming with us,’ Ford said pointing at the biggest, heaviest set of the four.

  ‘What's your name son?’ he asked the great big copper.

  ‘PC Richard Dobson sir,’ the young officer replied.

  ‘OK, Richard you stick close to me son. Wilson and Roberts, you take the left side buildings, we will take the ones on the right, let’s go!’

  Wilson raced ahead of Roberts; he still had a score to settle with this bastard Kempston and wanted to get to him first. Roberts lagged behind him and Andrew could hear him puffing hard already. Something moved ahead of him in the shadows off to his left. Wilson was sure he saw a faint glow appear just for a split second but then it was gone again. Homing in on the area his senses were now heightened, and his pulse raced. Wilson felt the exhilaration of the hunt. Paul Roberts metalled shoes clattered behind Wilson as he approached the boatyard.

  Wilson stopped, peering for
the entrance to the dark building. He heard a heart-stopping blood-curdling scream around the back then spotted the doorway that served as a side entrance.

  Jack Ford and PC Richard Dobson also heard the cry. They abandoned their search of their buildings on the right, running towards Wilson into the boatyard.

  Wilson opened the door to the repair shop, freezing on the spot. Not trusting his eyes and standing immobilised.

  He saw a naked woman's body suspended upside down. Ropes entwined both her ankles. She was fastened to an X-shaped wooden cross supporting the stern of a boat. Nails fixed her hands to a plank of wood attached to the lower part of the makeshift cross. The woman's head was missing. In his state of shock his trained police officer's eye noticed a curious long thin plastic tube. It was full of blood attached to her neck just above where the missing head should have been. Wilson's peripheral vision detected a movement to his right. He swivelled to see a man slumping forward in the corner of the room. The man was holding a dark wet looking round object in his blood covered hands. This man in the corner let out another ear shattering scream. Roberts barged through the door, almost knocking Wilson off his feet. The man shifted his stare from the head he held in his hands to the two men across from him, crying out.

  ‘Sarah, it’s my Sarah,’ Kempston wailed aloud.

  Wilson met the man's crazed eyes and with the spell now broken, shouted in rage.

  ‘Kempston you filthy crazy bastard what in God’s name have you done man?’ The realisation hit him very hard. The lovely slender woman who moved him so when he first met her had now met her tragic end at the hands of this madman who now held her bloody severed head in his hands.

  Roberts stood stock still with his mouth hanging wide open as he gaped at the scene. Jack Ford and PC Dobson pushed in through the door just as Wilson's shock turned to uncontrollable anger. He lunged forward towards Kempston who had let go of the head and was pushing himself to his feet. David just stood up as Andrew aimed a punch at him. Even in his deep state of shock, David's former karate training instinct kicked in and he somehow managed to block the blow with his forearm. Andrew swung again, this time, his left fist. David blocked that too at the same time raising his knee hard up into Andrew's bollocks. Not in the Karate manual but still very effective. Andrew gasped and doubled up at the same instant as PC Richard Dobson, a star of the forces rugby team floored David with a crashing rugby tackle and had cuffed him within seconds.

  Robert's turned to Jack Ford who was in shock himself and innocently said, ‘Sir, should I read him his rights?’

  ‘Right’s … Right’s? You tell me what rights that filthy bastard should have Robert's? Does he have the right to murder and decapitate beautiful helpless young women? Does he have the right to moulder away in prison or even a hospital for the criminally insane, all at the bloody silly tax payer’s expense for the next thirty years? With all the free healthcare and privilege of a private room for their safety, that goes with it? What in God’s name do you think is right about that Robert's?’ Robert's just shrugged and went to give Andrew a hand to help him get up. The other three uniformed policemen now arrived at the scene. The first one through the door threw up.

  40

  “MANIAC DOCTOR ARRESTED.” Proclaimed the headline in the Sun. “Police have yet to confirm the identity of a headless woman found at the scene,” the subtitle read.

  How fast the fickle press had all changed their tune, from the Messiah rhetoric issued days before his arrest. Some ran a theme of David being the Devil bringing hell to Earth. The public were out on the streets in protest. Many were campaigning to bring back hanging. But on the front page of the Guardian, it said,

  “WE TOLD YOU SO!”

  David Kempston was charged the next day with three murders. Nurse Kerry Harrison, his wife Sarah Kempston and Laura Hartley, the blonde guest house receptionist with her severed head found down the toilet in Grimsby.

  Kempston appeared the next day in the dock at Lincoln Crown Court. He stood there looking beaten up alongside a triumphant looking DS Andrew Wilson.

  Kempston did not offer any plea at all. He was then remanded in the nearby Lincoln Prison pending psychiatric evaluations. He did not answer a single question put to him by the police. Kempston appeared locked in a trance as the warders placed him into solitary confinement. No one seemed to notice Andrew Wilson’s bruised knuckles that day.

  Chief Inspector Jack Ford had the mother of all hangovers. His crew had all bought him drinks the night Kempston got remanded. They had all celebrated for hours. Jack could still taste the whisky in his mouth even though he had brushed his teeth twice that morning. Now the familiar guilt crept in. Jack felt similar feelings in the past but never as deep rooted as this. It seemed so wrong to celebrate his success amidst the grief and horror that Kempston had created. But, he had nailed the bastard, making good his promise to Kerry’s parents. The images of Sarah the dead woman nailed upside down in the darkened boatyard would never leave him as long as he lived. He had read the recent in-depth post-mortem examination conducted once again by the eminent Sir Charles Marlboro and it brought to light some striking coincidences between the two victims. Marlboro revealed that the plastic tube found inserted into Sarah Kempston's neck, was in fact, a latex tube used to connect needles to kidney patients receiving dialysis. A bizarre twist as David Kempston was a nephrologist, the type of doctor whose speciality was in treating kidney patients.

  It appeared a wide bore hollow dialysis needle was stuck into her carotid artery and all her blood drained from her body by gravity as she was hanging upside down. While the poor young woman slipped into unconsciousness, the merciless killer had cut her head off. They discovered the small puncture wound in Nurse Kerry Harrison’s neck was the same. A small semi-circular cut where the needle punched through the skin. So they knew now why her body was also found so to be so pale and white and devoid of any of her life’s blood. Kerry's identity was validated now as they had her head, but one further twist remained. Kerry's head was sitting in a pool of blood resting upon a pillow in the same guest house as Kempston occupied. They knew for certain he stayed there as a nearby fast food shop identified his photo. Another guest house owner calling herself “Old Dot” was on the television news with her story.

  She said Kempston stayed at her place. He was there at the same time as the waitress Lucy Higgins went missing. She once again commented on how lovely he seemed and that he reminded her so much of her next door neighbours son, who had been recently blown up in Afghanistan, losing both his legs.

  The thing that blew Ford away was that the pool of blood Kerry's head was sitting in had not been her blood. Nor was it the blood taken from the fat blonde receptionist. He feared it might be Lucy Higgin's. The natural assumption was Kempston cut off Kerry Harrison's head, planning to leave it sitting in the blood of his next victim, the young waitress Lucy Higgin's.

  Kempston must have planned to leave Lucy's head with Sarah's lifeless decapitated corpse after taking Sarah's away. No one knew whose blood was on the pillow, and Kempston did not have Lucy's head with him in the boathouse, just Sarah’s. Jesus Christ, how sick was all this?

  Even sicker scrawled on the floor of the boathouse, with Sarah Kempston's life's blood was the message.

  “He is coming I will exalt him.”

  41

  Doctor Barrie Smith, the chain-smoking forensic psychiatrist, for two days had been thoroughly examining Kempston's case notes. Smith was unable to get Kempston to communicate at all since he was remanded in custody. Two full days had passed and Kempston had not eaten or drank anything. They discussed putting him on a forced glucose drip in the prison hospital. Jack Ford was overheard saying.

  ‘They should let the bastard starve himself to death and do us all a bloody favour.’

  Jack and Barrie were now sitting outside Kempston's secure private ward, guarded by two mean looking correctional officers. All four of them were drinking prison coffee when a nurse put her head out o
f the door and whispered.

  ‘He just said something, only a bit of a mumble, but I thought you should know.’

  Jack and the Doctor stood up fast, Jack spilling his coffee and cursing. They both entered the secure ward, and the two guards started to relax once they had left.

  ‘This could be a breakthrough,’ Doctor Smith whispered to Jack.

  Kempston looked gaunt and pale, and his lack of food and drink made him look frail. The mysterious bruises he had acquired on route to the Crown Court were now turning to yellow and purple. Kempston looked a lot like a vagrant. He opened his eyes as the two men approached and David appeared to recognise Ford and then he closed them again. Nobody said anything for a few seconds before David murmured without opening his eyes.

  ‘I did not kill my wife,’ looking right at Ford with his eyes open adding, ‘I did not kill my kill Sarah, I loved her.’

  ‘Yeah we all saw just how much you loved her, and she lost her head over you too,’ Jack snarled.

  ‘I tell you it was not me who killed her; it was a guy called Sammy,’ David managed to croak as a tear rolled out of his eye. Another doctor approached and said curtly.

  ‘This poor man is in no fit state to answer any questions now. Let me administer the glucose drip, and you can see him later. He ushered them both out of the room closing the door behind them. Ford and Smith then agreed to meet up to interrogate him on the Thursday morning. They learned soon after arriving from the nursing staff that David had responded well to the glucose drip. He even ate a proper breakfast that morning. He also showered and shaved. One nurse said he seemed like a different man to the broken down pathetic being of just one day before. Paul Robert's had driven Ford and Wilson to the prison. Robert's talked constantly about the game played on the same Sunday Kempston got arrested. He said.