The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller (DCI Claire Winters, Book 2)

by T. M. E. Walsh

  She heard the wood floor creak and, turning, she saw him emerge from the darkness, as though he was seamlessly moulded to the shadows.

  ‘Julian?’

  The man stood, stretching himself up tall.

  She screamed.

  Springing from the sofa, she bolted for the door to the pool. She almost made it but he grabbed her, crushing her chest. She felt her whole body lift as he picked her up.

  She screamed again, kicking her legs out, trying to throw him off balance. The music was roaring now – someone had turned it up – and the man grinned as he edged towards the back door ahead.

  ‘No one can hear you scream, Fallon. Save your breath.’ She heard his voice, repeated it frantically inside her head.

  I know you!

  She tried to look at his face but he twisted it away. She bent her body almost in two, leaning forward, and found his flesh with her teeth, biting down hard.

  He hissed a swear word and dropped her.

  Scrambling on the floor, she pulled herself forward and back on her feet, bolting for the door to the garden, but he was right behind her. She felt the sheer force of him when he pushed her hard in the back.

  Tripping over her own feet, she sailed forward, crashing into the cold glass window. Her face smacked against it, her teeth cutting into her lip.

  She felt like a fly swatted against someone’s hands and her head was swimming. His hands pulled at her waist, lifted her, and she was like a rag doll in his arms when he hauled her out of the door, across the garden.

  Her feet dragged along in the snow behind them, leaving deep furrows. The cold air took bites at her skin, feeling like a million tiny teeth gnawing at her flesh. She shivered involuntarily, feeling gooseflesh pucker her body.

  Her head hung heavy, looking down at the floor. She was barely awake and her eyes started to close. She embraced the blackout when it came.

  *

  When Claire finally got home, the first thing she did was switch on the television. A picture of William Hatcher shot up on screen, along with those of the murder victims, on Sky News.

  Then she was startled by her BlackBerry ringing. She saw it was Stefan as she answered it.

  ‘You need to come back in… We got him.’

  Claire paused, not registering what he was telling her.

  ‘We’ve got Hatcher, Claire.’

  She bolted upright, but was speechless.

  He smiled at the other end. ‘We’ve got Hatcher and he’s singing like a canary.’

  CHAPTER 66

  When Fallon woke, she couldn’t move her wrists. She couldn’t see either. Her eyes were open but everything was black. Her head was reeling. Then she got slung to one side, her body crashing into something hard, and she realised she was moving.

  She was in a car that was negotiating sharp bends in the road. The reason she couldn’t see anything was because there was a black t-shirt tied around her head. The reason her hands felt so numb was because there was cable wrapped tight around both wrists.

  She sucked in a deep breath, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Her chest rose and fell heavily, her breathing laboured. She tried to speak, but her breath caught in her throat. What the hell had happened? She remembered the man in the shadows. She remembered running towards the door to the garden. Then it all went blank.

  The car slowed, coming to a halt. She heard the driver get out, then the back passenger door open, cold air rushing towards her.

  She remembered she was naked except for her thin bikini bottoms and felt extremely vulnerable. When icy hands gripped her ankles, she let out a scream and bucked her legs. Then the car rocked under his weight as he clambered over the back seat on top of her, hands now squeezing around her throat.

  ‘Shut up or I’ll kill you.’

  *

  Fallon hadn’t shut up because of his threat. She’d remembered the voice. She knew him. Jesus Christ, it was too much for her to even contemplate. Even when he’d sat her down in his kitchen and removed the t-shirt from her head, watching her reaction, she never spoke.

  Instead her eyes bore into his, a look of defiance that was doing her more harm than good. She followed his eyes as they wandered over her naked body.

  ‘Get a good fucking look, you sick bastard.’

  The man looked away, left the kitchen, then came back with a bundle of clothes and threw them into her lap.

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. Get dressed.’

  ‘Does my body bother you? It never bothered you before.’ He ignored her, averting his eyes. ‘I thought you were trying to help me.’

  He flung around and pointed at her, face twisted. ‘I am trying to help you!’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

  ‘Stop talking or I’ll be forced to gag you.’

  ‘Bet you’d fucking love that.’

  Without warning he flung his hand out and caught her hard across the temple.

  Fallon’s head lolled to one side and her body came crashing down off the stool, unconscious, hitting the floor hard.

  He waited. She didn’t move. His face was uncertain as he crouched down beside her.

  A swell of relief flooded his body when he felt at her neck and found the soft thump of her pulse. He sank backwards onto the floor and stared into the hallway. He looked at the basement door off to his left.

  He needed to move if his plan was to work. It was early yet, but he had much to prepare.

  He cut loose Fallon’s wrists and quickly dressed her, taking care not to look at much when he removed her bikini bottoms, replacing them with plain white pants. When she was clothed, he picked her up and carried her down the stairs and shackled her to the pipe, like it was second nature.

  Then he left.

  *

  When he returned an hour later, Fallon was awake. He opened the basement door and saw her thrashing about in her restraints, kicking the pipe like something possessed.

  He didn’t bother trying to calm her just yet. He knew she’d tire herself out sooner or later, and then he’d make his move.

  He offered her water.

  She took the plastic cup, sipped, then spat it into his face. She laughed as the water ran off his face. He didn’t want to risk knocking her unconscious again, not just yet, so he punched her hard in the gut. She fell to the floor spluttering, chest heaving.

  He told her she wouldn’t be fed until he was ready, as a punishment. That didn’t stop her shouting and screaming at him. He pushed her obscenities to the back of his mind while he prepared for the next stage of his plan.

  When he was finished, Fallon was slouched up against the wall with exhaustion, eyes barely able to stay focused. During her struggle, she’d managed to crack and rip off some of her nails on both hands. Where she’d thrown herself around in frustration, dark brown smudges from the dirty wall now adorned her face.

  ‘You look like a sewer rat,’ he said, as he removed the shackles and dragged her towards another pipe on the other side of the basement. ‘You’ve made an exhibition of yourself.’

  A sound gurgled from the back of her throat, and her eyes fluttered open to stare him hard in the face. ‘When my dad finds out what you’ve… ’ She trailed off, as a surge of pain spread out across her forehead. A tension headache was taking hold, and she was so tired she couldn’t finish her sentence.

  The man locked her wrists in place and thought of what was to come. He had the rest of the day to put everything into motion.

  The basement had room for one more visitor and it was only a matter of time before she came.

  CHAPTER 67

  Elias stood covering the flame from the light he’d offered DC Harper to light his cigarette, against the wind outside.

  They’d captured William Hatcher trying to hide out in a kids’ play area in the village close to the farm. The dogs had sniffed him out, and once Hatcher had caught a glimpse of an Alsatian, with its salivating jaws filled with sharp teeth, straining at its leash, he’d given himself up with relative ea
se.

  Since he’d been at the station, he’d been eager to talk, but not a lot was making much sense to anyone right now.

  They were now waiting for Claire to finish interviewing him. Until then, everyone was on tenterhooks.

  Elias returned the lighter to his pocket and stared at DC Harper with questioning eyes. He’d had a gut feeling about Harper in recent weeks.

  Something didn’t sit right.

  ‘I still say we’ve missed something with Curran,’ Harper said, scrolling through his mobile phone. ‘How many times have we questioned him? Everything seemed too convenient and what with his fake alibis, we should’ve nicked him long ago.’

  Harper gave Elias a sideways glance when he didn’t answer, and his face dropped. ‘You’re eyeballing me. What’s up?’

  Elias looked away, staring back towards the station’s entrance, making sure they were alone. ‘I’ve got questions, Harper.’

  He paused a beat. ‘What about?’

  ‘Questions with answers I’m not sure I’m gonna like.’

  Harper smirked, and looked away then back again, to find Elias staring at him. His face dropped. ‘I’m not sure I follow you.’

  ‘Funny business that leak on Grant’s pregnancy, wasn’t it?’ Harper swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. ‘There everyone was, quick to think it was me, the outsider, the one who had points to score against the Guv. No one thought to look closer, to someone else who had perfect opportunity.’

  Harper’s eyes shot back to his, face deadly serious. ‘Everybody on the investigation had the opportunity.’

  ‘It was you though, wasn’t it?’

  Harper scoffed. ‘Damned if I know where you got that from.’ He laughed nervously, turning his head to look across the car park. ‘You’re not thinking straight, Crest.’

  Elias laid his palm on Harper’s shoulder and patted it firmly. ‘I don’t care that you did it. Hell, I was this close to doing it myself,’ he said, gesturing a small space with his fingers. ‘There was only one thing holding me back.’

  Harper turned to look at him. ‘And what was that?’

  Elias had almost called that journalist at the local paper, but something had stopped him, made him take stock of the situation.

  Once he’d found out it was Claire who’d offered him a lifeline to transfer from Liverpool, he knew how close he’d come to really screwing everything up for himself.

  Not that he was going to tell Harper that, despite the other man’s eyes locked onto his, expecting some kind of answer.

  Elias shrugged. ‘I guess deep down I knew the Guv was right but I didn’t want to admit it.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean I did it.’

  Elias smiled thinly. ‘I know you did… question is, why?’

  Harper looked at his mobile, and then tapped it against his thigh nervously. His eyes shifted back and forth, over the skyline, anywhere but into Elias’s eyes.

  ‘I’m not gonna grass you up, Harper. I just wanna know why.’

  Harper stumbled over his words. ‘I did it ’cos I thought you were right.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I agreed with your theory and thought it would’ve been a risk worth taking.’ He turned to Elias, eyes questioning. ‘There’re rumours about you. Reasons surrounding your transfer. Word going around is that you’re a maverick. You don’t do everything by the book, but you get results.’

  Elias remained stony-faced. ‘What else have you heard?’

  ‘You want out with the old and in with the new.’

  Elias eyed him suspiciously.

  Some rumours really needed to be put to bed.

  Many thoughts were going around in his head and the thought even crossed his mind that Claire had set Harper up for this talk, but then he reminded himself that it was he who’d called Harper’s bluff. He rubbed his chin with his hand, scraping over his three-day old stubble. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

  ‘Believe me, Harper, you don’t know the half of it. I’d also be very careful where you go from here. Claire’s not stupid. She won’t let this go.’

  Harper frowned. ‘Since when are you an expert on the Guv?’

  ‘Let’s just say I’m learning fast. She’ll see the leak as an act of betrayal, take it personally… best stop playing with fire before you get burned.’

  CHAPTER 68

  2nd December

  The home video of Fallon was playing in the DVD player, her face filling the screen, pulling faces at her father, Richard, who panned the camera across to the rest of their house.

  ‘I filmed this when Fallon turned sixteen. It was about a week before my wife left us,’ he said, staring at the screen. ‘This was the last video I ever took of her.’

  Claire watched Richard. He was hurting. His face looked like a tortured soul, waiting for the relief of the end.

  He scratched his chin, and paused playback. ‘You’ve my permission to search her room, turn it upside down if you have to, whatever it takes. Just find her.’

  Claire removed her gaze from Richard and didn’t say a word. She was tired. It was the early hours of that morning and she’d been interviewing William Hatcher since she’d rushed back to the station after Stefan’s call.

  Hatcher had confessed to everything, except why he’d done it or how he chose his victims. He’d also confirmed he was Mitchell Curran’s client. The same Mitchell Curran who’d since disappeared. And now another girl was missing.

  Claire walked to the family photographs on a large sideboard at the other side of the room as Stefan appeared in the doorway holding a business card.

  ‘I spoke to your wife about twenty minutes ago, Mr Dockley. She’s on her way. I didn’t realise she lived local.’

  Richard nodded. ‘In the next town, yes. I’d heard she’d moved closer a few months ago to be near her sister, but I didn’t see the point in telling Fallon.’ His eyes stared at the still frame on the television. Fallon was looking up at the camera, a present in her lap that she hadn’t opened yet.

  ‘Ellen Dockley – or should I say Morrissey? Last I heard she was using her maiden name until I agree a divorce… She won’t miss a chance to come straight back into our lives, after nothing for months, and tell me I’m a bad father to my face.’

  ‘And are you?’

  Everyone was silent and all eyes were on Claire. ‘Are you a bad father?’

  ‘So blunt,’ Richard said. His brown eyes misted over. ‘I deserve that. I could’ve been better. I was too involved with my property business when Fallon was younger. I tried to compensate for my absence by giving her anything she wanted, so long as it wasn’t time… time that I couldn’t afford to give her.’

  ‘That was always going to be your downfall, Richard.’

  The voice seemed to melt into the room from nowhere. All eyes fixed on the doorway and on the small, forty-something woman that now stood before them, rage in her eyes. ‘Have you enough time for her now? Now she’s missing?’

  Richard looked away. Any tears he might have shed quickly disappeared. He looked at the woman, whose eyes were as dark as his own.

  ‘That statement, my dear long-departed wife, is rich, coming from you.’ His eyes fixed upon hers. ‘Where have you been these last three years? Don’t you dare blame all this on me. You haven’t been here to pick up the pieces since the day you left us. If I’m not fit to be called a father, then you have no more right than I to be called a parent. A mother. You’ve become nothing to her, Ellen.’

  Every fibre in Ellen’s body seemed to rupture and before Claire or Stefan could react, she hurled herself towards Richard, arms raised.

  ‘You let this happen!’ Her fists pummelled his chest hard. He caught her wrists, pushing her from him. ‘You bastard!’ She pulled a hand free, smacked him hard across the face. ‘I love my daughter!’

  He sniffed at her in contempt and pushed her aside. ‘Love? Don’t make me laugh.’

  She went to hit him again, but Claire caught her wrist, forcing the woman to look into her eyes. ‘That’s enoug
h. This won’t help Fallon.’

  *

  Richard Dockley studied the picture of William Hatcher in his hands, passed it across the table towards his wife and shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen him before.’

  Ellen’s cold eyes studied the picture, then she shoved it back towards her husband. ‘Me neither.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Claire said, leaning across towards Richard over the kitchen table.

  ‘This man is in police custody. He’s confessed to those other murders,’ he said, pointing to the picture. ‘This is a waste of time. He can’t be the one responsible for taking Fallon. He was in a cell when she was abducted.’

  Ellen snorted and flicked her hair back. ‘You’re telling me they’re wasting our time?’ Richard ignored her. Her eyes shot to Claire. ‘Well, isn’t that great. What the hell are you doing here asking us about this monster, when it has nothing to do with our daughter?’

  ‘Do you have any CCTV here?’ Stefan asked Richard.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Ellen said, clicking her fingers at Stefan, ‘don’t go changing the bloody subject. I want to know what you’re planning to do to get my daughter back.’

  Claire ignored her and faced Richard. ‘Your daughter’s photo was found in Hatcher’s possessions.’ She paused. ‘Your daughter was a target.’

  Richard’s face rose in alarm, but he couldn’t find the strength to speak. Claire’s face softened a little. ‘Was Fallon having any kind of therapy?’

  She saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

  ‘Yes.’ His eyes lowered. ‘We both were.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great,’ Ellen spat. ‘When were you planning on telling me she was seeing a shrink?’

  ‘Richard,’ Claire said, ‘this is important.’

  He hesitated, picked up his glass of water and emptied it. ‘We were having psychotherapy here in Letchworth.’

  CHAPTER 69