Don't Look Behind You: A dark, twisting crime thriller that will grip you to the last page (Detective Eden Berrisford crime thriller series Book 2)

by Mel Sherratt

  But he was too strong. Several punches one after the other rendered her useless to do anything.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Eden and Amy were in Sudbury Avenue. They were going house-to-house, trying to see if anyone knew the whereabouts of Daniels as he wasn’t at home. They stopped when they heard a shout coming through.

  ‘All units in the vicinity of Warbury. Intruder alert at fifteen Sidney Place. Member of public says his daughter has been beaten, and he’s not sure if she’s breathing. Ambulance en route. Anyone able to respond, over.’

  Eden pressed the button on her radio. ‘D429 to control room. We’re a few streets away, show us responding.’

  ‘Received, D429. Victim’s father isn’t sure if she is unconscious or if it’s a fatality.’

  Eden and Amy ran to the car. They were only two minutes away, so they would be first on the scene.

  ‘Do you think it could be Daniels?’ asked Amy, as they left Sudbury Avenue.

  Eden glanced at her as she took a sharp corner. ‘I don’t want to jump to conclusions as it could be a domestic. But it does seem too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘He’s going to kill someone soon if it is him, isn’t he?’

  ‘Not on our watch he isn’t.’

  She turned in to Sidney Place. Outside number fifteen, a man stood waving his arms at them as they approached.

  ‘She’s in her bedroom.’ He pointed up, his hands covered in blood. ‘I— I think she’s dead.’

  ‘Is there anyone else inside the property that you know of?’ Eden pressed.

  The man shook his head. ‘She rang me this morning saying something about a break-in, then the line went dead. I came as quickly as I could. But I think I’m too late.’

  ‘Which room is she in?’

  ‘The front bedroom. Second door on the left.’

  ‘And you’re her father?’ asked Amy, taking the man’s arm.

  ‘Yes. Malcolm Dixon.’

  ‘And your daughter’s name?’ asked Eden.

  ‘Melody. She’s only twenty-three. Please, you have to help her.’

  Eden left the man with Amy as she flicked out her baton. She stepped inside the property. Ahead of her were stairs, the bannister covered in patches of blood. She suspected Mr Dixon had steadied himself to get down quickly to go for help. She doubted the attacker hadn’t been wearing gloves.

  ‘D429 to control room, receiving.’

  ‘Go ahead, D429.’

  ‘We’re at the property now. The victim appears to be a female in her early twenties. The property seems to be secure so I’m going upstairs to check on her.’

  ‘Received, D429. Waiting for further.’

  With no immediate threat that there was anyone else in the property, Eden took the stairs three at a time. Getting out her pepper spray just in case, she rushed into the room at the front of the house with it high in the air. Her arms sunk to her sides as what she was greeted with took her breath away.

  Melody Dixon was lying on her back in a state that Eden knew would haunt her father for years to come. She had been beaten severely, her eyes glazed over. Someone had pulled the duvet over her nakedness, destroying forensics. She assumed it must have been her father. Eden could understand his concern about ensuring her dignity, even though the forensic team wouldn’t be happy. She would have done the same if it was her daughter.

  In the distance she heard sirens. She took gloves out from her pocket and flicked them on as she moved to the side of the bed. If this was Daniels, he was escalating quickly and violently. Melody had obviously put up a struggle.

  She pressed a hand to the girl’s neck, sighing with relief when she felt a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.

  ‘D429 to control room. Victim is alive but unconscious. Request ETA for ambulance.’

  ‘ETA two minutes.’

  Knowing she could do nothing, Eden raced downstairs. Two uniformed officers had already arrived, and there was another car pulling up. It was a first responder paramedic.

  ‘Seal the road off as soon as the ambulance arrives,’ she shouted her orders, waving to the paramedic to come quickly.

  Amy arrived by her side.

  ‘She’s alive,’ said Eden. ‘Well, at the moment she is.’

  ‘Is it Daniels?’

  Eden shrugged. ‘I can’t be sure. He’s left her in such a state that I can’t even see beyond the blood. But he must have left forensic evidence now. We’ll need to get it fast-tracked.’

  As more paramedics rushed past her, she went back to Mr Dixon.

  ‘She’s alive, but her pulse is weak,’ she told him. Seeing his face whiten, she caught his arm just as he was about to collapse on the pavement. She helped him sit down on the step. ‘Put your head between your legs for a moment.’

  Leaving him with Amy once more, Eden popped shoe covers over her Docs and went back inside the house. She knew she’d be ushered off the scene as soon as the crime scene officers were there, but she wanted to take a look downstairs too. In the kitchen, she saw the broken glass and the open window. Nothing else was out of place. It didn’t look as if Melody had disturbed a burglar and he’d flipped.

  But as she glanced through the window, she could see the door to the shed had been forced open. She wondered if the attacker had lain there in wait or even stayed there overnight. She shivered at the thought.

  As the paramedics worked upstairs, Melody’s battered face kept popping into her mind. She shuddered, vowing to get the man who had done this once and for all. He couldn’t keep doing this.

  Outside again, she tried to calm her nerves, feeling so angry for the victim that she wanted to lash out. She kicked at the wall and then sat down on it, taking a deep breath and trying to steady herself so she could think. The street was starting to come alive with people on their doorsteps or standing talking at their gates. Response vehicles were blocking off the road, officers going about their duties. A routine they had done so many times, yet to the residents in this street it could be something new. She glanced up and down. Someone must have seen something. If she had to work all day and night, she was going to find out who had attacked Melody.

  Sean arrived and came straight over to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and bent down to her level. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘She’s alive, but we’re failing these women not catching that bastard.’

  ‘We’ll fish him out.’ Sean looked up and down the street.

  ‘Surely he can’t get too far covered in blood?’

  ‘This needs to go to Major Crimes now, Eden,’ said Sean. ‘We’re on a full-scale manhunt if this is Daniels too.’

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  At the refuge, Carla tried to act normal. She needed to figure out what it was best to do next before she involved anyone else. But she felt safer here than at her home.

  ‘Morning, Carla,’ said Lisa as she came up behind her. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh, not too bad now, thanks.’

  ‘Have you heard the breaking news? It looks like another woman has been attacked this morning.’

  ‘How awful!’

  ‘The police aren’t saying if it’s that bloke they’re looking for. But it’s got to be him, hasn’t it? I hope they catch him soon.’

  ‘I hope so too.’ She shuddered before going to set up.

  Of all the sessions she did, Carla enjoyed this one the most. It was a casual sit-back-and-chat session. Nothing formal, just a group of women talking about their problems. Often it was harrowing listening to their tales – what they’d been through. Sometimes it was inspiring too. Some of the women had been through so much but got out in time. Just like her, luckily. And at least it took her mind off her own problems for a while.

  Carla never shared her background with anyone. As far as they were concerned, this was just a job to her. To them, she had never been a victim of domestic violence. Yet every time one of them shared a story, she cringed inwardly because it had hap
pened to her too. Painful memories always came flooding back. She felt their pain just as much as them because she had been there: too scared to make a move – run down, put down; made to feel worthless because someone wanted to take his own pain out on her. It was all a form of control.

  It was a horrible situation to be in and that’s why she admired every one of the women she got to see. Because she hadn’t been able to leave at all. It wasn’t until her life was threatened that she’d got away from Ryan. She wasn’t brave like these women were. After the parcel delivery earlier, she was plain scared.

  There were three women in the session when she went to join them at 11.30 a.m. There was no sign of Tanya, which was a shame because Carla really wanted to catch up with her. She wondered if she was deliberately keeping away after her attack.

  But a few minutes into the session, Carla was surprised when she came in to join them. Even without the prominent bruising to her face, she seemed more flustered than usual. Her eyes flitted around the room before landing on Carla.

  ‘Come and sit down, Tanya,’ she said. ‘We were just discussing that there’s been another attack this morning.’

  Tanya brushed the remark to one side. ‘People will talk about it for a day and then it will be old news. No one listens to us.’

  ‘We’ll listen,’ said Marsha, the woman sitting next to Carla.

  Tanya took the seat furthest away and sat down. Carla noticed that she kept looking out of the window as if she was waiting for someone, and it put her on edge.

  The three women in the group continued to chat, talking about the fear of someone getting to them while they were here, finishing what they’d started. So all the pain of leaving would have been for nothing.

  ‘And as long as she doesn’t invite that fella of hers here again, we’ll be fine,’ said Andrea, her head nodding in Tanya’s direction.

  Tanya must have felt them staring at her as she turned and glared at them all in turn.

  ‘I have a right to be here as much as any of you,’ she said.

  ‘You do, but not him.’

  ‘Leave her be, Andrea,’ said Maggie. ‘We’ve all been that scared at one time or another when our man has threatened us.’ She smiled at Tanya. ‘It might help you to talk, you know. Share your pain.’

  Tanya looked away for a moment and then, folding her arms, looked at the women again.

  ‘I remember one time when Vic locked me in the bathroom. He’d put a bolt on the outside when I’d been to the doctors, and when I got back he pushed me inside. I screamed for ages but he wouldn’t let me out. He left me there overnight.’

  ‘How awful.’ Marsha leaned over and gave her hand a squeeze.

  Carla froze. She couldn’t be sure but was Tanya looking at her in particular when she’d spoken those last few words? Because that had happened to her too. Ryan had locked her in the bathroom overnight after a particularly bad drinking binge. He’d convinced himself that she’d been having an affair with the man two houses along, who had just moved in with his family.

  The en suite had no window, just an extractor fan. She’d banged on the door but he hadn’t come to her. She’d sat and cried to no avail, wondering if she would die in there with no food. The incident had left her with a fear of enclosed spaces.

  ‘He let me out the next day,’ said Tanya, still looking at Carla. ‘Said he was sorry and bought me a present to make up for it.’

  Andrea snorted. ‘Typical behaviour.’

  ‘It was some underwear. Red with black ribbon.’

  Carla dropped her coffee mug, the remains of her drink spilling over the laminate flooring. She tried to stay composed as she wiped it with a tissue while Maggie went off to get a cloth.

  Tanya never once took her eyes from Carla. Luckily, the women in the group didn’t notice.

  Carla tried to keep her composure for the rest of the session, but it was as if Tanya was goading her. She thought back to what had happened over the past few weeks – the brick through the window here, the figure coming past her window at home and standing by the door, the parcel left on her car. Then there had been the teddy bear memento, and now this story about being locked in the bathroom too? Was Tanya somehow involved with Ryan? Surely not.

  As soon as the session came to an end, she called to Tanya as she was about to leave the room.

  ‘Could I have a word with you please?’

  ‘I’m busy,’ snapped Tanya. ‘Places to go, people to see.’

  ‘It won’t take a moment.’ She pointed to a chair. ‘Please.’

  Tanya huffed but sat down, folding her arms again like a sullen teenager. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘What you said, about being locked in the bathroom – is that true?’ she asked.

  ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

  ‘No, not at all. I was just asking. It must have been horrific to go through.’

  ‘It was, but you wouldn’t know, would you, because you’ve never taken a punch in your life. Or is that a lie?’

  Carla opened her mouth to defend herself, but she stopped at the last minute. How could she tell Tanya that she had experienced a similar situation without giving the game away?

  ‘Yes, it happened,’ Tanya went on, ‘and exactly how I told you. Vic can be an evil bastard at times. But then, you know all about cruel men, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know Vic.’ Carla ignored the question.

  ‘You know more than you’re letting on. People don’t work in places like this unless they know the pain and the torment suffered by the women who find refuge here.’ She pointed around the room. ‘Look at this place. Would you stay here unless you absolutely had to? It smacks of unloved people, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.’

  ‘No matter how horrible it is, it’s still a safe place for you.’

  ‘I have to go.’ Tanya stood up to leave.

  ‘Don’t go,’ said Carla. ‘I— I—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just make sure you stay safe, okay? He might hurt you more than you think.’

  Tanya stared at Carla. ‘You don’t know what I’ve been through, so stop pretending. It will only make things worse.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Carla frowned.

  Tanya lowered her eyes, a blush forming on her cheeks, and she played with her ponytail. ‘It doesn’t matter. But you need to look after yourself as much as I do. You need to stay safe too, don’t you?’

  Once she’d left the room, Carla sat and thought about what she’d said. Was Tanya goading her – or warning her off? She wasn’t quite sure, but something didn’t ring true. She wished she had someone to confide in. Maybe it was time to call Eden.

  Seven Years Ago

  Once Ryan had been sentenced to nine years, I went home. I sat and cried for hours. The tears surprised me, but I was soon laughing through them. I was safe, for a while at least.

  For the first week, I went around the house making a mess, scrunching up towels, leaving cups out, moving tins round in the cupboard. I left the bed unmade. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. Junk food, chocolate, whatever I fancied. I didn’t have to cook a full dinner every evening. I could watch what I chose on the television. And as I could wear what I felt like, I went on a small shopping spree online.

  After two weeks, I left the house. I got a part-time job at a local bakery, serving on the counter. I wasn’t qualified to do much more, but I loved being with people, being out in the community again.

  I had a lot of time to think about what I would do with my life. I read up on rehabilitation and realised that most people didn’t change. I read up on domestic violence and counselling. I joined a gym and got myself into shape, took a few basic self-defence classes. I found a bit of confidence and made some new friends, female and male. But I never went on any more than a few dates. I couldn’t trust myself not to give in again. I didn’t want anyone to control me. I didn’t want to be run down, trodden on, insulted, hit, abused – ever again. I wouldn’t allow it to
happen. If it meant shutting myself away, then so be it.

  I left the house and rented a flat. Every day, life improved. And every day I prayed he wouldn’t find me. Despite him being sent down for nine years, I couldn’t settle anywhere. I gave my address to as few people as possible. One of the first houses I rented was a tiny terraced house near to Birmingham. It was beautiful, and for two years I set up home, tried to forget my past and got on with my life. Of course, there was the niggle in my mind that one day he would be out, but until then I could be happy. I could sleep in my bed.

  Until the day I had a knock on the door.

  I never rushed to open doors. I always see who’s there first. But I knew I couldn’t always live my life thinking about Ryan, and I had to trust people. So a man with a white van was one of the people I trusted.

  He handed me a large envelope and asked me to sign. I took the pen from him and waited for him to pass me something to sign.

  When he gave me a piece of paper, it was blank.

  I looked up at him, and he sneered. He seemed to be in his early thirties with a lived-in face that spoke of troubled times. His clothes were clean but scruffy, dated. He wore a jacket as if it was a uniform, mud on his shoes.

  ‘He wants your autograph,’ he said.

  I frowned, my hand poised to receive something from him. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Ryan. He wants your autograph so he can look at it on his cell wall.’

  Everything went into slow motion, and I couldn’t speak.

  ‘I’ve just been released and he asked me to give you a message.’ The man bumped the toe of his boot against the step. ‘He says he’s known for a while that you’re here, and he wants me to tell you that no matter where you go, he will find you.’

  I shut the door before he’d finished speaking. Drew over the three locks and double-locked the handle. It was then I realised I still had the envelope in my hand. With trepidation, but a need to know, I opened it up. I pulled out a red bra and knickers to match. It was delicate lace, with soft padding and black ribbon detail.