Deep Fear

  The shifting skate was silent, having being oiled well, and it glided over the dirt easily, towards the lake.

  There it was.

  No yellow heads sat plump on long green stilts in summer, but it didn’t matter. Nicola was about to become part of this place, like Drummer Hodge, and, in the spring, when the daffodils announced their arrival, she will have helped them on. It was perfect.

  She smelled.

  That was the problem with summer.

  Nicola wouldn’t stay up. She kept leaning maddeningly over to one side. The woman was as exasperating in death as she’d been in life. Finally, she stayed where she was put for her photograph. Her great breasts hung over her huge belly, down to her thighs, but were now cool as ice, and not inviting at all. Her head bent down towards her chest, and her arms were arranged either side of her body. It was as if she was asleep. The cosmetic work could have been better, but it was the thought that counted.

  The area was popular with dog walkers, and with the smell she was exuding already, it wouldn’t be long before Nicola Tower became famous: her lifelong dream. These moments spent saying goodbye were always a little disappointing; an anti-climax. The tracks left by the shifting skate were kicked over on the way back to the car, and the boot door slammed down. It was a shame it was all over. Until the next time.

  As the car’s engine came to life, a single fat black fly landed on one of Nurse Tower’s wounds, and began its work.

  Chapter 47

  Kelly woke with a start.

  At first, she didn’t know where she was. Then, after a few moments, and her eyes adjusting, she realised that she was in her new house, in her new bedroom, with new bedsheets.

  She laid back luxuriously and stretched. She looked at her window and the sunlight beyond and sank deeper into her pillow. She felt at peace. But soon, reality hit and she remembered that she had to drag herself out of bed and get to work.

  She turned her head, Johnny’s chest rose and fell rhythmically. She’d got in late. Very late in fact, but Johnny said he’d still come over. He’d brought takeaway, and they’d sat on crates. Her bed was the first thing to be delivered, the sofas would take weeks.

  She looked around the room: her clothes were all over the floor, together with Johnny’s. Well at least they’d had a bed this time. She smiled and stretched again. The thought of hauling her body out of bed was completely unappealing. She supposed that her new coffee machine might be a consolation. Johnny still hadn’t moved, so she slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower. When she came back to the bedroom to get dressed, the bed was empty and she heard noises downstairs. She opened her windows and looked down at the river. She’d never get bored of the view. Perhaps she could bring Mum over later to sit on the terrace. Wendy was out of hospital again and every time she came out, she seemed to bounce right back.

  Kelly hadn’t seen Nikki all week, and for that she was thankful.

  She towel dried her hair and got dressed. Her bedroom had built-in wardrobes and they were full already. She selected a white blouse and a patterned skirt. It wasn’t a frivolous pattern, but it was a little more interesting than just a single colour. The skirt was a sensible check, and she matched it with brown leather sandals. The stairs were wood with no carpet and her heels clunked noisily on them. The space was lavish compared to her mother’s terrace and she felt extravagant.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, as she joined Johnny in the kitchen.

  ‘I thought you’d be up and out early,’ he said. ‘I’ve made you an omelette.’

  ‘You spoil me! Thank you very much, are you joining me?’

  ‘I’m making another one now.’

  ‘I’ll wait then.’ She got cutlery from the sink (she only had two of everything, donated by Wendy, so far), and took it, and her omelette, outside. More crates had been turned upside down, and she used one as a table and pulled up two more as seats. It was warm already, and it was only seven a.m.

  Johnny joined her and they ate in silence.

  ‘You make a good omelette.’

  Her phone buzzed and she looked at the screen. It was Matt, Nikki’s husband.

  ‘Oh God, I’m ignoring that.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘My brother-in-law. It won’t be important. My sister will have put him up to it.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘It’s a long, boring story. Let’s just say, we don’t get on.’

  ‘I’m an only child, it’s a lot less complicated.’

  Kelly’s phone rang again. She tutted, it was Matt again.

  ‘You better answer it, it doesn’t look like he’s going to stop trying,’ Johnny said. She did so.

  ‘Kelly Porter.’ She was always formal with Matt because she didn’t know how much poisoned honey Nikki had fed him, so she kept a distance.

  Johnny watched as Kelly’s demeanour changed. She sat upright and then stood up. Now she was pacing. He watched her. Families, he thought. Such a pain in the arse. But then he wondered if Josie would ever feel like that about him, and be irritated by his phone calls.

  ‘Matt, calm down. I think you’re over reacting. Look, she’ll be with a friend.’ Kelly shrugged her shoulders towards Johnny, who began clearing away. He had to get going as well. Kelly listened.

  * * *

  ‘Yesterday she was supposed to meet a friend, she didn’t show up. She didn’t come home last night, and she’s not answering her phone.’

  ‘Who was she supposed to meet, and what time?’

  ‘Her friend, Katy Crawley. Around four o’clock.’

  ‘So, when was the last time you saw her?’

  Kelly searched her memory and played her days back, trying to work out what day it was. It was Friday.

  ‘Before that, about two o’clock,’ Matt said. ‘The kids are in meltdown, your mum hasn’t seen her either.’

  ‘How did she seem, Matt? Was she stressed or upset about anything? You know Katy Crawley can be a bit of a drain, did you know that Nikki has been giving her money?’

  ‘I sort of knew, Kelly, but I don’t see what that has to do with her going off and not being here for her kids.’

  ‘I know, I’m just thinking aloud. Are you sure Katy is telling the truth? Maybe Nikki wanted a break and is getting her to cover for her?’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘I don’t know, Matt. I’m just thinking like a copper would.’

  Thinking like a copper would…

  ‘Matt. Will you let me make some calls and I’ll get right back to you?’ They hung up. Kelly rang her sister’s phone. The tone was dead. Then she rang her mother.

  ‘Mum, I’ve just spoken to Matt.’

  ‘I’ve been up all night, Kelly. She wouldn’t go off and tell no-one where she’d gone. She wouldn’t leave the kids, and Matt, and…’ said Wendy.

  ‘Has Matt spoken to the police?’ Kelly asked her mother.

  ‘No, I don’t think so, do you think we should?’ Wendy sounded more alarmed.

  ‘I’ll do it, leave it to me.’

  ‘Do you think she’s ok, Kelly?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mum. I’ll keep you updated, I promise. Has she done this before? I mean, had she been acting strangely or saying she wanted to get away for a bit?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When is the last time you spoke?’

  ‘Yesterday. She was going to get the rest of my things from the hospital. I forgot to tidy my cupboard. I’m such a fool.’

  ‘Alright, Mum. Listen, I’ll get back to you, alright?’

  She hung up.

  Working backwards, Nikki’s last known trip was to the hospital.

  A shadow crept over Kelly’s day; a day that had started so perfectly.

  ‘I’m making a move,’ said Johnny. Their goodbyes were always rushed and she felt regret.

  ‘Right, of course. Thanks for breakfast, and er… dinner,’ she said.

  He walked over to her and put one hand o
n her jaw and cupped her face. He bent over to kiss her and she allowed him.

  ‘Let me know when you’d like to do it again,’ he said.

  ‘I will. Soon.’

  ‘Good.’ He left and Kelly watched his back. She stood like that for a few seconds after the door had banged, and then she remembered what she had to do.

  Chapter 48

  The ambulance parked as close to the trees as possible, after a search of the area by the forensic team. They worked quietly. They all watched the news. They’d all heard of The Teacher.

  At first, fascination and tantalising gossip had dominated the news, verging on sickening vicarious replay. But even that was turning sour, and the atmosphere at the Tourist Board was now one of panic. Visitors were cancelling in their thousands, and buses, boats, restaurants and bars were empty.

  They wouldn’t be able to keep this one out of the news for long either. Number four.

  She’d been picked at by small carnivores, which had been attracted by the open wounds around her midriff. Great slices of flesh had been removed from her belly and at first glance it looked like the cuts had been made by a seamstress, preparing to make a prom dress smaller for the excited teenager who’d lost so much weight, especially for the event. But it wasn’t a dressmaker’s dummy. It was a woman. Another woman.

  The team was made up of five forensic examiners and, today, Ted Wallis had come along. Senior pathologists usually didn’t have the time or the inclination to visit scenes in the field, but this was different. Ted had autopsied every victim and this time he wanted to see her in-situ. Such context wasn’t necessary, but Ted was inextricably linked to these women now, and he wanted to see the killer caught. And he also wanted to help Kelly. Perhaps he’d see something at the scene that was new, something that he would never see in the morgue.

  He looked at the soil, rummaged through bushes, and took photos. His team was perfectly capable of carrying out these tasks for him, but he worked alongside them, performing the duties he’d trained for thirty years ago. He used stepping plates, so as not to disturb vital evidence. Defence barristers were getting pickier year on year, and a tiny detail could stump him on the stand. These days, juries wanted to see the scene for themselves, in as much detail as possible.

  Ted was old school, and he’d brought along with him a sketch pad and pencil, which he used to sketch the scene. It always helped to jog the memory if it was required later.

  He stopped and bent down. There were tyre tracks in the mud, and despite being covered with loose soil, they were still visible. The hot weather had preserved them beautifully and they were nice and hard – perfect for plaster. He ordered an imprint. Leading from the tyre tracks were other tracks, smaller ones, and Ted couldn’t work out what had made them. He had them filled with plaster too, and they’d be sent to a track expert along with the tyre tracks.

  His mind was focused, and he was unaware of members of his team watching him. It wasn’t every day that someone as senior as Ted Wallis could be studied in the field, and they were distracted by him. They watched his methodical movements, and the way he looked at certain items from different angles. It took him over forty-five minutes to get close to the body, so busy was he examining everything else around her first.

  A tent had been erected around the scene, and cars could be heard in the distance. It was an isolated spot but people walked dogs here, and soon it would become a thoroughfare for animals with three hundred million nose receptors. He couldn’t allow that to happen, and the police were busy securing the area.

  She’d been found by a park ranger, desperate for the toilet and caught short, looking for somewhere off the road. He’d given a statement to the uniform, first on to the scene. Ted could still smell his vomit, which lay in a pile ten feet away from the body.

  Kelly Porter had been informed, and she was on her way. Ted had called her personally.

  For now, his aim was to find a piece of paper.

  He noted the stillness of the place. It was bewitching. He imagined a figure, most likely under the cover of night, arranging the bulky frame of this woman. Had he said anything? Had he taken his time? How long had he planned this location to be her final resting place? As always, he struggled with the motive behind the act. No matter how old Ted got, he could never rationalise such depravity. He looked at the incisions. Fat had been removed from under them, and Ted wondered if the killer thought he was doing her a favour. Plastic surgery for free. The victim was clean, Ted could tell straight away. Her nails were scrubbed, and her wounds weren’t suppurating. There were various marks all over her body, and Ted wouldn’t know what had caused them, or if they were inflicted ante- or post-mortem, until he had her on the slab. Washing indicated intimacy, he noted. He spotted marks around her neck, and they looked consistent with the other victims. He heard rustling behind him and turned around. Kelly walked towards him. She was grim-faced and she stared beyond him, towards the victim.

  He wondered how close Kelly’s team was to solving these crimes, but he wouldn’t ask her. Ted knew that sometimes crimes went unsolved for decades. It was taking a toll on the young detective’s face.

  ‘Kelly,’ he said, simply.

  ‘Ted.’ Kelly’s eyes never left the victim.

  ‘I haven’t found a note yet, take a look. She has the same ligature marks round her neck, wrists and ankles. We found tyre tracks and another smaller track, possibly a lifting device.’

  ‘I know her,’ said Kelly. ‘She worked at Penrith and Lakes Hospital, she nursed my mother.’

  Ted stopped what he was doing, and stared at Kelly.

  ‘Do you know her name?’

  ‘Yes, she’s called Nicola. Nicola Tower. She was a staff nurse, full of life, always joking around, perhaps a little too much sometimes. She was, how can I put it? Wonderfully tactless.’ Kelly’s voice was dead pan.

  The answer was right under her nose. She’d walked the same wards, she’d said hello to the same patients, she’d probably made a coffee at the same machine as the killer, but, as she wracked her brain for images of anyone matching their profile, Kelly continually came up blank. She’d thought it might be a hospital porter, a visitor, a consultant, the man selling newspapers and chocolate bars; anyone would do. They’d been through the staff lists, the patient lists, including outpatients, and through auxiliary staff. Thousands of people went through the doors of the Penrith and Lakes Hospital. Hundreds of vehicles came and went, and any one of them could be responsible for the series of murders on the shoulders of Kelly Porter and her team. She’d thought of closing the hospital, but that was out of the question. She’d put officers on every entrance, scoured CCTV footage, and personally spoken to over five hundred people.

  And still no-one knew where Timothy Cole was.

  ‘Why did you come down here, Ted?’ She looked away from Nicola Tower. Something gnawed at her gut.

  ‘Do I need to answer that, Kelly? I trust my team implicitly, but I needed to see it this time for myself, to see if I could spot something, anything significant. I can see how much this is taking out of you. I thought I could help.’

  ‘I’m fine Ted,’ she lied. He didn’t believe her. ‘I think we are looking at number four, Kelly. Kelly?’ He watched her, trying to get her attention, but she’d zoned out again and her face was blank. He watched as she walked towards the nurse she’d called Nicola.

  ‘What has The Teacher said this time? What was her crime?’

  ‘I don’t know, Kelly. I won’t know until I get her back to the morgue. Do you want me to guess?’

  Kelly nodded. She already had her own theory.

  ‘Moira was missing her fingers; Brandy was missing her tongue, Aileen missing her cane, and now Nicola is missing a lot of her flesh.’

  Kelly looked at the body and she hadn’t noticed before. Her mind had wandered to the women before death – and during expiry – and how they’d suffered. She was overlooking the detail that now offered itself to her.

  ‘Flesh?
’

  ‘Look. He took her fat deposits, Kelly. Her hips, inner thighs, belly and some back fat.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’

  ‘Quite. It’s as if he’s given her a fat-reducing operation; make of that what you will.’

  ‘Vanity.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My sister has gone missing.’

  He stared at her.

  ‘Kelly? You don’t think it’s linked do you?’

  ‘I’ve spent so much time in the hospital this month, it’s like my second home. So has Nikki. So has my mother. The victims are all connected to the hospital. Each one of them seemed to have known their killer: else why would they have agreed to go with them? He needs a vehicle to do this,’ she pointed at Nicola Tower. ‘Nikki has been missing for twenty-four hours, but she’s a mother, Ted. She’d never leave her children. I have to go.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘God knows. First I need to report it formally.’

  ‘You’re remarkably calm, Kelly.’

  ‘I’ve got no choice. Tell me when you find the poem.’

  Ted nodded. He knew, as well as Kelly, that there’d be one: and it was probably lodged inside one of the botched fat removal wounds. He watched Kelly walk away, and called over a junior. He had to get the body on his slab so he could find the poem.

  Chapter 49

  Kelly increased her steps as she returned to her car. She called her sister’s mobile again. No answer.

  No matter how much she denied it, no matter how much she willed the thoughts away; and no matter how many times she pretended that Nikki had bunked at Katy’s last night, drinking wine and drowning their sorrows until the early hours, Kelly knew; she knew that whoever roamed the corridors of the Penrith and Lakes looking for imperfections and human frailty – or whatever else it was that The Teacher pretended was wrong with the planet – Nikki was not ok. Every fibre of her body told her. Next, she called Missing Persons. She hadn’t worked the section for years, but she vaguely knew the routines.

  Nikki Morden was reported missing shortly after midday.