Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller.

by M A Comley

  His lips pulled into a thin line, and he shook his head, refusing to answer her question.

  “Okay. I’m drawing this interview to a close. You’ve had your chance. You’ll be shipped out to a remand centre and appear before a judge in the next few days. By that time, the other DNA results should be with us, and we can see about adding those murder charges to the offence already brought against you.”

  “Whatever! What’s the point in me trying to deny anything? There’s no point, is there?”

  “Without an alibi, it looks to me like you’re up the creek.” Sally agreed, a tinge of guilt pricking her conscience when she recognised defeat in his words. She looked over at the constable standing in the corner of the room. “Take him back to his cell and make him comfortable for the night.”

  After the suspect was escorted from the room, Jack went ahead to the incident room to update the team on what the suspect had told them, which was very little.

  The solicitor took her time packing away her notebook. She glanced up at Sally. “When are the other results likely?”

  “Within a day or two. I have to tell you that semen was found on all three bodies.”

  “You don’t think it could be a case of a copycat murder going on here? My client seemed adamant that he was nowhere near the scene or had ever met this Brenda Fisher, Inspector.”

  “Not possible. Copycat killings only happen once the knowledge of a crime has been circulated through the media. That isn’t the case here. We’ve held off going down that route because we wanted the DNA results verified first. I’m going to put out a plea to the public once we receive the other results. If—and it’s a very big if—Dorling is innocent, then the TV pleas should give us some other clues to follow up on.”

  “I understand. Will you let me know once the results come back?” The solicitor handed Sally her business card.

  “Of course. Thanks for attending today.”

  Sally showed the woman the way out then slowly walked back upstairs to the incident room.

  “Right, I need to action the forensic team to examine Dorling’s room at the B&B and his car, then I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready for a well-deserved drink. Let’s wind things up and go to the Four Feathers, eh?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jack replied. The rest of the team nodded then tidied up their desks and switched off their computers.

  “I’ll join you in a couple of minutes. I have a few things needing my attention before I call it a day.”

  Jack chuckled. “In other words, folks, get the beers in before I get there.”

  Sally narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait there.” She walked into her office and dipped her hand in her bag for her purse. She removed a fifty pound note, left her office and handed to Jack. “There. Wouldn’t want you being out of pocket, would we, Jack?” She turned back to her office, and mumbled loud enough for the team to hear, “Wouldn’t want your arse squeaking any louder than it does already.”

  She heard the team laugh, and she struck an imaginary finger in the air, imagining her partner’s glare aimed at her retreating frame.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sally spent the next hour celebrating Dorling’s arrest with the team. Feeling reservations on her part, she headed for home after consuming one glass of white wine. The team remained at the pub, engrossed in their jubilation of yet another case completed successfully. Sally pulled into the parking space at her flat then walked the hundred yards or so to her door. She stopped dead when she rounded the corner and saw the front door of her flat. Damn! Darryl. What the hell does he want?

  Her ex-husband was banging on the door with his clenched fist, shouting out her name, and demanding to be let in. Two thoughts crossed her mind: either ring for backup and get him arrested for disturbing the peace or usher him into the flat before her neighbours got pissed off and called the police themselves.

  Not wanting to feel uncomfortable with her new neighbours, Sally sucked in a large breath and approached her ex-husband. “Darryl? What are you doing here?”

  He swayed a little when he turned to look at her, obviously drunk. “There you are. Sally, my darling wife! Come ‘ere.” He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.

  “I asked you what you’re doing here, Darryl?”

  “I’ve come to see you. What a silly question, dearest,” he slurred, his voice rising. His eyes screwed up as he tried to focus on her.

  Reluctantly, she pushed him through the front door ahead of her, glancing over her shoulder to see if any of her neighbours had come out to investigate the noise. Luckily, none of the neighbours had stirred.

  Once she was inside, the old feelings of wariness she’d thought were buried suddenly resurfaced. She herded Darryl into the small living room then rushed past him into the tiny kitchen to put the kettle on. She knew that the only solution when he was in this state was to force gallons of black coffee down his neck. She returned to the living room to find him swaying in the centre of the room, repositioning his feet every few seconds as he surveyed all four corners of the living room. “This is shit.”

  “I agree.” She left the room to prepare the coffee when she heard the switch sound on the kettle. Keep calm, girl. Let him say what he likes. You know what happens when you challenge him. With her inner voice’s instructions foremost in her mind, she returned to the living room and placed the two mugs of black coffee on the small table. She invited Darryl to sit in the only comfortable chair, volunteering to sit at the small table herself. But Darryl dropped lopsidedly into the other chair around the round table and just stared at her. Sally pushed his cup towards him.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it looks as though you need sobering up.”

  “Not the damn coffee.” He struck the mug with the back of his hand and sent it hurtling across the room, where it hit the newly painted wall.

  “That’s enough, Darryl,” she said, fear causing her voice to tremble.

  “Is it?” he snarled, baring his sparkling white teeth, which he’d recently spent a fortune on, in spite of their hefty debts.

  “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  “I want you. You’re my wife. You belong to me.”

  Sally shook her head and let out her breath slowly. Keep calm. Don’t let his temper escalate. “You’re wrong. I don’t belong to anyone, Darryl. I’m my own person. I also have a decree absolute stating that we’re no longer husband and wife.”

  He leaned over the table, his face inches from hers, until she had the courage to pull away and recline against the back of her chair. Her heart raced, outrunning her thoughts. Experience told her what to expect when he was drunk and angry.

  “We were married and remain married in the eyes of the church. I won’t let a shitty piece of paper come between us. You hear me?”

  “I don’t want any trouble, Darryl. You have no right being here. The judge went out of his way to tell you to leave me alone. All I want to do is get on with my life, a stress-free life from now on.”

  “We can do that together. Live together as a married couple again. Why not?” His brow furrowed deeply.

  “It’s over. We’re over. Why can’t you accept that and just get on with your life?”

  He rose from the table. Her stomach muscles clenched nervously when he moved towards her and towered over her. She stared ahead, focusing on the kitchen doorway instead of being drawn to look at him. He shuffled back and forth, as if trying to decide what to do next, then thankfully, returned to his seat. She swallowed, remoistening her dry throat.

  “Why?” he repeated. “What went wrong?”

  You name it, you did it. Anything and everything from gambling, drinking, womanising to frittering away all our money on ‘dead-cert money-making ideas’ your loser friends insisted you should invest in. “It’s simple. We fell out of love. There’s no need to search long and hard to find a reason, Darryl. We simply grew apart.”

  “I didn’t. I’ve ached for you every day sinc
e we parted. A pilot’s life can be a very lonely existence. You just couldn’t get your head around that.”

  “Is that why you turned to work colleagues in your times of need?” She flinched when the words emerged from her mouth. If she could have bitten her tongue in two at that moment, she would have happily done so as she watched his eyes widen in anger.

  “You’re wrong. What are a few drinks after a long flight?”

  “It wasn’t the drinks that concerned me. The selfies the pair of you took screwing each other this way and that were your undoing. They pushed me over the edge.” Shit! Now you’ve riled him. Why don’t you learn to keep your mouth shut?

  He stood, tipping his chair backwards. He marched towards her, quickly covering the divide between them, and grabbed her jacket lapels before she had the chance to escape. Darryl hauled her to her feet. Their noses, as well as other parts of their bodies, touched. She made a point of staring into his angry eyes as she felt his erection grow against her thigh. Please no. Not again. Don’t let him hurt me. All the police training she’d been through over the years seemed to dissipate at that instant, just as it had deserted her throughout their abusive marriage. For once in your life, stick up for yourself. Don’t let him harm you anymore. Her inner voice demanded action, and she followed through on that advice.

  She pushed at his chest, catching him off-guard. He toppled onto his backside on the floor, dazed. She leaned over him and shouted, “No more. You’ll never lay another hand on me. Do you understand?”

  Darryl appeared to relax, but she refused to drop her guard, thinking that he was playing a trick on her. Finally, she backed away and dropped into her chair again. He gently got to his feet, still swaying a little, and returned to his chair.

  “I’m sorry. Why can’t we just talk and try and work things out?” he pleaded softly.

  “Because it’s over. O…V…E…R. Over, Darryl. When are you going to realise that?”

  “But I still love you. I can’t switch my love off like a light switch. You love me, too, right?”

  Sally looked him in the eye and shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t love you. Over the years, you’ve destroyed any respect or love I ever had for you. The truth is, I fell out of love with you a year after we got married. I didn’t have the heart to tell you, though. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. I knew you were screwing half the stewardesses on your trips, but I was so engrossed in my own work that I chose to ignore it. But those selfies brought everything to a head, and I could no longer put up with your womanising ways. I think half the time you believe you have the right to dip your dick where it suits. I have news for you, Darryl—you don’t. For my own safety, I had to call a halt to it. Haven’t you noticed over the past few years how many times I refused to have sex without you wearing a condom? I was scared of what disease you might infect me with. Yes, that might be an OTT reaction, but the thought of you screwing every stewardess you came into contact with used to fill me with disgust. I no longer have to face such fears, now that I’m single.”

  “Who is he?” he spat at her.

  “What? What the fuck are you talking about? You think I have another man in my life, when I’ve had to deal with all the shit you’ve poured on me lately? Christ, if only you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Knew how you’ve succeeded in putting me off men for life. I swear I will never let a man get under my skin again. Never.”

  “Yeah, you say that now. You will. No woman can live without having sex in their lives. You need us as much as we need you.”

  “Really? How nineteenth century of you to even suggest that. You really have no idea. In your eyes, women are there to be used and abused at will, aren’t they? Be honest with me.”

  His gaze drifted and in that moment, she knew she’d summed up her ex accurately for the first time in her life. How refreshing it was to have the freedom to do that since the divorce papers were finally signed.

  “I loved you. I still love you, and I will get you back in my bed one day,” he replied, defiantly wringing his hands together on the table.

  She stood up and motioned for him to leave. “No, I can categorically say that will never happen again. I despise you, Darryl. You ruined my life, the life we shared. We had it all, and you shattered it with your selfishness. Now get out of here and don’t come back.”

  His shoulders slumped as he made his way to the front door. She kept her distance behind him. He opened the door and twisted to talk to her. She jumped back a few paces. He frowned. “Is that it? Is that what it has come to? That you fear me? Fear being within a few feet of me?”

  “That about sums it up, Darryl, yes.”

  He turned to face the front door again, but instead of walking through it, he slammed it shut. The next few seconds passed by in a flash. She had foolishly lowered her guard enough for him to get close again. His movements were like lightning. Was he pretending to be drunk all along? Within seconds, he had pinned her underneath him to the living room floor, his hand pressed firmly over her mouth, preventing her from screaming. Please, don’t let him do this to me. Not again!

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sally gingerly got out of bed the next morning, sore and bruised. The mental scarring she’d acquired throughout her marriage paled in comparison to what Darryl had done to her the previous evening. He’d finally left the flat an hour after the attack began. She knew she should have reported the assault to the police as soon as he left, but just like the times he’d attacked her before, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  She was embarrassed. How would she be able to conduct her day-to-day business at the station, knowing that the people she worked with saw her as a victim? That thought prevented her from picking up the phone, every time.

  She ran a bath then looked at her pitiful reflection in the mirror. Darryl had always hit her. In the past he’d left bruises only in places hidden from public view, but not this time. When she had flopped into bed, exhausted, the vision out of her left eye had become limited pretty darn quickly. Thankfully, the cold flannel she’d held in place whilst reliving the events in her bed, had successfully suppressed the swelling enough that her sight was at least sixty percent of what it usually was. The thought of ringing in sick never crossed her mind, though, probably because she feared Darryl would return to the flat for a repeat performance.

  While the bath continued to fill, she laid out the make-up she would need far more than she usually wore to work. Frustration, pain, and stupidity ran through her like a high-speed train. Her newfound sanctuary was in tatters because of the one person she’d sworn she would never let step foot over the threshold. She should have known not to trust him. Why did I care so much about the neighbours?

  After a quick bath, she applied a thick layer of make-up and pulled a black trouser suit from her wardrobe in spite of the sunshine filtering through her curtain, announcing that a warm, sunny day lay ahead.

  Satisfied she’d covered the bruises, she shoved the make-up in her handbag and headed off to work without even having a cup of coffee or breakfast. The last thing she wanted to do was linger in the room where the attack had occurred. During the drive into work, she made a mental note to ring her mother and ask if she could stay there for a few days, until her fears of Darryl returning had subsided. She cringed at what her parents would say when they laid eyes on her.

  She walked through the reception area with her head down then trotted briskly up the stairs to the incident room. Sally sighed a relieved breath when she found the room empty. It would give her enough time to grab a coffee and let the caffeine work its way into her system, where it could help combat her feelings of shame.

  Halfway through her cup of strong black coffee, she heard the rest of the team arrive for duty. She continued with her paperwork, head down, determined to get a lot achieved early for a change. Panic struck and held a tight grasp around her heart when someone knocked on the door.

  “Good morning, boss. You’re in ea
rly,” Jack said, sounding a little more cheerful than he had the day before.

  Keeping her head down, she replied, “Morning, Jack. I shouldn’t be too long here. Get everyone organised, will you, please?”

  “Sure thing.” He left the doorway and walked into the room. Sally froze. Out of the corner of her eye, her bad eye, she saw his shiny black shoes come to a standstill alongside her. “Boss? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Now, shoo… some of us have important work to do.”

  His hand came into view, and she tried to turn her head away, but he caught her under the chin and angled her head his way. “Jesus… fucking… Christ! How the hell did you get that?”

  “I had an accident after I left the pub. Clumsy really. I went arse over tip and ended up hitting my head on the pavement.”

  Jack snorted. “No way. I don’t believe you. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to believe me, Jack. This has nothing to do with you, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d just rather pretend it wasn’t there.”

  “That’s gonna be hard to do. You can barely see out of it. I’m going round there.” He stomped back towards the door.

  “Round where?” she shrieked anxiously.

  “To thrash that son of a bitch.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. You hear me?” She finally looked him directly in the eye.

  “Why not? Jesus, look at the state of you! He can’t get away with that, Sally.”

  “It’s over with. Just leave it alone, Jack.”

  “I will not. If you don’t report him for assault, then I’ll do it.” Jack’s face grew redder and redder as he spoke.

  “You can’t do that without my permission. Please, don’t subject me to any of that crap. I’ll deal—I am dealing—with it in my own way.”

  “Seriously? No further action is going to come his way? With respect, boss, you need your head examined. I know what the bloody guy has put you through during the course of your marriage. Admittedly, this is the first time he’s left any physical signs of abuse, but surely that’s all the more reason to go after the fucker.”