Deep Fear

by Deep Fear (retail) (epub)

  After two separate blows to the temple with a fist the size of a cabbage, Nikki did exactly as she was told.

  She wondered if Kelly would even bother looking for her. Surely they’d find her, if Kelly was all that she was cracked up to be. She must know where she was. She must.

  But how could she if Nikki didn’t know herself?

  Nikki tried to work out the logic of what was happening to her over and over, simply because it didn’t make sense. She went from thinking that it was all a mistake, to considering the possibility that it was planned. Each time she returned to the conclusion that it was all a mistake, but she knew that communication was no longer an option: the fist hurt too much. Dried blood clung to the skin where it had split at the side of her head. The worst part was the thinking. Nikki rarely had time to think, and now it hurt her head, and she realised why she never did it. The faces of her children came and went, keeping her warm and fairly lucid. She thought of the programmes she watched on crime and investigation: she’d enjoyed watching sadistic killers evading the police on the special casefiles every week – actually enjoyed it. Now it repulsed her, and she didn’t think she could ever watch another programme about a woman being taken, held and… She couldn’t think beyond her current state.

  She stared at the crack in the ceiling. The sun was shining, and she wondered if the children were playing outside. Or if her disappearance had been on the news. She felt their tears. They’d be terrified. She’d never left them for this long.

  She looked around her, and tried to distract herself with details: the oil stain, the smell of petrol, the cement, and the tools. But this garage wasn’t used for a car – well not at the moment anyway.

  Her eyes settled on a sheet of newspaper on the floor, which hadn’t moved since she’d been in here. She’d read it a thousand times, for something to do. She’d memorised the articles on it, and she could recite them without looking. She knew the names of the reporters, the names and emails of the editors, and the people in the three photographs who’d become her companions.

  The three women were dead, of course, all killed by The Teacher. Moira Tate looked well off, and in control. Nikki imagined her as a mother, all proper and bossy. Then thoughts of her own mother made her eyes close tightly, tears stinging behind them. She forced herself back into the imaginary world of the people in the newspaper. She wondered what Moira sounded like when she spoke.

  Brandy Carter looked like a chav. She was someone who Wendy Porter would not have had for a playdate with her girls. Nikki managed a smile, and blood seeped out of a cracked lip.

  Fourteen-year-old Aileen Bickerstaff was different. The same age as her own daughter, Charlie. Nikki whispered to her gently, like a loving mother. To take the pain away, Nikki examined all the objects in the garage one by one, imagining how each might help her. She looked for things to throw, things to cut and things to make noise. But each time she searched, she realised that they were all out of her reach.

  She remembered Kelly saying that the vast majority of people who were abducted were taken by someone they knew. So it was only a matter of time before she was found. Wasn’t it? She remembered a lot of what Kelly said, now, in here.

  The garage lock clanked against metal, and Nikki held her breath. The door was wrenched open and slammed shut again.

  It wasn’t anyone coming to rescue her.

  It was her captor, walking towards her, holding something. It was only a foot away when Nikki realised that the item was a syringe. She panicked and struggled, and received a blow to her jaw for her efforts.

  As the needle sank in, she wondered if she’d ever see her family again.

  Chapter 55

  The Dippen Wood Estate was a working farm as well as a hotel, conference and banqueting provider, and an exclusive leisure complex for private members. Currently, there were one hundred and seventy-nine paying residents on site, plus thirty-two gym members either in the pool, spa or the gym itself. Twenty-three members of staff were on duty.

  Cane had insisted on coming. Kelly had assumed that he’d want to get home, but he’d been sucked into the urgency that had gripped Eden House and he was going nowhere. Phillips, Hide and Shawcross were tasked with searching the Scaws Estate house, and Kate Umshaw accompanied Kelly. They’d been given three squad cars by Ormond.

  There was an after-dinner lecture scheduled for eight-forty-five p.m. and their suspect was on the list. They’d checked ahead and all seventeen members from the Penrith NHS Trust had checked in to their rooms. Kelly knew that the chances of the Scaws Estate address holding her sister, and the Dippen Wood harbouring The Teacher was a notion borne of pure romantic zeal that would make Wordsworth blush. But it was a shot.

  The roads had been quieter as the Lakes tourists retired to their apartments for the night after a glorious day on the fells or in the trinket shops of Windermere. They’d reached the hotel in under an hour. Phillips kept them updated by radio.

  CCTV footage of Nikki leaving the hospital at midday on Thursday afternoon had been pulled and examined. It proved she was there but, beyond that, the trail went dead. Kelly had no idea why Nikki would be at the hospital until her mother confirmed that she was collecting a prescription for her. A photograph had been prepared from the footage and released to the press, along with the old photograph of Brian Leith.

  They slowed their cars, and parked at the edge of the main car park. Kelly instructed the uniforms to wait for instructions. She wanted to make sure that the lecture had commenced before they entered the building. She and Cane walked to the main entrance, and DS Umshaw waited in the car. They approached the main desk, which wasn’t at all busy, and looked around. A few people sat at the bar, ordering late post dinner drinks, and the restaurant was busy. They were expected, and shown in to an office behind the counter. The night manager awaited them and was ready to show them to wherever they needed to go. She’d already prepared the details requested by the officers as they made their way to the hotel: the member of the conference, given room number 247, had checked in and had ordered room service at just gone eight p.m.

  The manager confirmed that she could take the two detectives to the light and effects landing, above the auditorium to get a closer look at those in attendance.

  ‘It’s quite normal to hold lectures this late. They’ll all pile into the bar afterwards, and we’ll struggle to turf them out by early morning. NHS staff are the worst. Excuse me.’

  The manager thought she was being helpful with her extra offerings of information. Kelly was grateful. They were led behind reception, to a staff staircase, emerging above the two halls used for conferences. They could hear the speaker.

  ‘Are you sure we can’t be seen up here?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Positive. Look, the lights are pointed towards the front of the stage and to the audience.’ Kelly and Cane followed her finger and were satisfied that they could search the attendees without being spotted.

  Their suspect was not in the lecture.

  ‘Take us to the room.’

  The manager nodded and Kelly informed DS Umshaw to organise the uniforms; she wanted both main entrances covered, as well as the gym, spa and orangerie. She didn’t need to remind them of their need for subtlety. Two officers, armed with tasers, were to be escorted to the room.

  The gloves were off. Kelly didn’t need a photograph, she’d never ever forget the face. Her teeth clenched unwittingly, as she walked beside Cane for the short journey downstairs to the second floor.

  They stopped outside room 247.

  Kelly indicated to the manager to return to reception, after handing her the master key. A uniform banged on the door. There was no answer. He tried again.

  Kelly inserted the kay card and opened the door. The two uniforms went inside ahead of her, and Cane followed behind. The room was empty.

  Not just of a body or a resident; it was completely empty. There was no luggage, no toiletries, no personal items; no indication that anyone had checked into the ro
om. Kelly strode to the door and checked the number. They had the correct room.

  Her shoulders slumped.

  ‘I’ll go back to the conference organiser,’ Kelly said. ‘I’m going to speak to them, to see if our guest actually ever turned up in person or checked in somehow remotely,’ she said. Kelly contemplated the embarrassing possibility that their suspect was never at the Dippen Wood hotel complex at all, but had somehow engineered the whole thing.

  ‘Let’s check the site car parks for the blue Touran. Does the hotel have CCTV?’ She looked at the officers, who looked at one another. One took the initiative and went to reception to find the manager.

  Kelly called Phillips. No-one had showed up at the residence either and they definitely had not been on shift at the hospital.

  Kelly spotted a female toilet and left Cane to coordinate officers. She wanted to punch something.

  Chapter 56

  In Penrith, officers entered the address on the Scaws Estate. An officer, who’d attended the Less Destructive Entry course, tried to limit the damage breaking in through the front door. They were unsuccessful.

  The house had been bought back in 2012. It looked ordinary from the outside. It was in a rough area of Penrith, but it was kept well. It was an ex-council property. The exterior, from what they could make out in the dark, was non-descript, but tidy.

  Once secured by uniformed officers, and confirmation was received that it was indeed unoccupied by the resident, it was indicated to the detectives that it was safe for them to enter. They suited and booted, and checked their equipment. Forensic officers entered first. A photographer prepared his lenses and positioned two cameras in a crisscross over his chest. Phillips, Shawcross and Hide accompanied them.

  The entrance hall was plain. The carpet was well-worn (not grey), and it led into a kitchen on the right and a lounge on the left. They spread out. Phillips opened drawers and looked for handwriting, diaries, books, and anything out of place. In the lounge, a huge tapestry hung on one wall, but this was the only nod to taste; everything else was incredibly bland. They were looking for grey fibres, as well as bed sheets, weapons and stains. They’d been told to seize any trainers, shoes, items possibly containing DNA (toothbrushes, discarded tissues, anything that might have been in the owner’s mouth or on their person), and fingerprints. They were also looking for signs of sexual deviance, such as porn, or books on sadism. As well as poetry.

  In the kitchen, a beautiful set of prints was pulled from a wine glass, and in the sitting room, another set was taken off the TV remote.

  Rob went upstairs and found two forensic specialists kneeling. They were picking up fibres from a carpet with tweezers. The carpet was grey. It was also well worn and covered in stains that were being treated for blood proteins and examined under ultra violet light.

  In the bedrooms, sheets were taken and beds looked under, but everything seemed normal so far. The accepted theory from their boss was that the murders took place at a location where the killer had plenty of time, and felt comfortable. But, so far, it didn’t look as though this was it. Inside a wardrobe, laid neatly in pairs, were several pairs of trainers. The shoes, like the clothing, were masculine, and Rob looked for a size. They were all size seven, and three pairs were Nikes. He turned them over, one by one, and stopped at the third pair. There, on the tread, in exactly the same place committed to Rob’s memory from the print, was a small stone lodged into a crack.

  There was plenty more to gather, bag and tag, and items were placed carefully into containers or bags. The house was silent as officers wrote notes on labels and gathered detritus from every corner of every room. Rob showed the trainers to Phillips and they knew they were in the right place. It regrouped their resolve and they continued searching. Every possible piece of physical evidence needed to be gathered and one of those pieces that may seem insignificant now could well turn into that one piece of critical evidence that could swing a jury.

  ‘Where’s the entrance to the garage?’ Rob asked Emma. ‘Have you seen it?’ he asked again. She shook her head. They went to find Phillips and show him the plans of the property. The building plans of the council properties, obtained from the council archive, showed that the garages were attached from the inside. Over the years, it could have easily been blocked up. But Rob wanted to be sure. Phillips helped them search around. The plans clearly showed a door linking the garage to the house, and it was situated in the lounge. They went in and stared at the wall. But instead of a door, hung a huge great tapestry. The same one they’d merely glanced at when they first came in the room.

  It looked old and very expensive. ‘The door should be here.’

  They studied the artwork and took in the skill and the labour that must have gone in to producing such a thing. It reminded Emma of Hampton Court and a school trip she’d been on. Those tapestries were priceless and she wondered how a nurse on an NHS salary could afford such a thing. If it was genuine.

  It captivated them, and they stared at it. It wasn’t particularly beautiful, but it was beguiling. There were worn patches, here and there, and as they got closer, they could smell the age in its fibres. The main content of the image was branches and leaves of all colours and sizes, and they were fringed with gold. The odd bird could be spotted resting among the foliage. But the emphasis of the tapestry was the scene in the middle. An animal – it could have been a goat or a pony – was being attacked by four wolf-like creatures with sharp teeth and evil grins. They were fantastical creatures, none of which were real. But it was unsettling nonetheless. There was no blood, no gore, and no evidence of pain or anguish. The animal in the middle had simply given up and accepted its fate.

  ‘I think we’re done,’ a voice startled them. It was one of the forensic officers.

  ‘No, we’re not. We need to get into the garage,’ Phillips said. ‘Help us with this will you?’ Rob and Emma took one end of the tapestry and Phillips took the other. It was thick and very heavy, but they managed to pull it away from the wall.

  Behind it, hidden all along, was a door.

  Chapter 57

  Kelly leant over the sink and stared into the mirror. They’d come such a long way. Literally. All of the pieces fitted: lack of semen, history of child offending, professional knowledge, access to all the victims, and the employment history. The only thing they were waiting for was a handwriting sample from HR back in Penrith, and a DNA sample. But first, they had to find their suspect. Kelly kicked the sink stand.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she said. She stood up and walked to a cubicle. It was Friday night, she wanted to sit by the fire and eat takeaway with Johnny, and have him take her to bed, and not have to get up at some godforsaken hour in the morning to face the same old shit.

  The ladies’ toilet was empty and Kelly was thankful. She had to gather her thoughts and get back to Cane. She’d screwed up but not entirely: it was his idea to tag along all this way. The absence of their suspect only heightened the likelihood that they were hiding something. She’d spoken to Phillips and there was no sign of them at home either. They hadn’t called in sick or given any excuse or valid reason to miss the conference, but it was clear that they had no intention of attending.

  The restroom was peaceful and Kelly sat on the closed toilet lid in her cubicle for a long time. They were so close.

  She heard the sound of somebody coming in and decided to make a move. She couldn’t sit moping here all night. Besides, Cane was waiting for her. She left the cubicle and went to wash her hands. Somebody was pissing, and she checked herself in the mirror. She walked to the basket of immaculately pressed towels and took one. She dried her hands, glancing briefly over her shoulder at the woman leaving the cubicle.

  Kelly fumbled for her phone, but it dropped to the floor.

  ‘Hello, Kelly. You’ve found me.’

  Kelly eyed her. She was just an ordinary woman: a little frumpy, hair greying, face wrinkling, plain shoes, and non-descript clothes. Kelly couldn’t speak. She remember
ed Rob telling her about Paul Bamber’s impressive pull-up record, and the one next to it: the female record was fifteen and belonged to the dowdy woman in front of her.

  ‘Haven’t you got anything to say to me?’ said Nurse Amy Richmond, formerly Amy Gardener, and God knows what else.

  Kelly pulled her badge. ‘I’m arresting you under suspicion of mur–’

  Amy laughed. ‘Really? But then you’ll never know where your sister is, will you?’

  Cold assaulted Kelly’s body, as she realised the truth, and her dilemma.

  ‘We all have choices, Kelly. How much do you love her? Not much by what I’ve seen, and I don’t blame you! It’s such a pointless emotion, love. She whines a lot, doesn’t she? That was the final straw for me, trying to tell me how to do my job.’

  The whole time Amy had been talking, she hadn’t blinked once. Kelly’s skin felt cold, and her arm hair stood up. She wanted to say so much; she’d imagined this moment so many times, but now nothing came out of her mouth. Looking at the woman, it was incomprehensible that she could have done those things.

  ‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why?’ Kelly heard herself hiss: she couldn’t help it.

  ‘Shut up!’ Amy spat.

  Kelly stood back. Amy’s eyes were murderous and Kelly realised that she’d just witnessed the other side to Nurse Richmond: the side that answered her very simple question. Amy’s teeth were stained. She folded her arms across her ample chest, and spread her legs. She wore a grey sweat suit, suited to the gym. Her eyes never left Kelly, and she still hadn’t blinked. Now she looked capable of killing. For the first time in what seemed like half an hour – but was probably more like ten seconds – Kelly began to think. The initial paralysis that had consumed her on coming face to face with Amy Richmond was dissipating, and she began to formulate a plan. She gathered her anger under control, and assessed her situation. If she stalled Amy Richmond for a while, she might get some answers, maybe even a confession. But, in that time, her sister might be dying. On the other hand, she could call the nurse’s bluff and hope that Nikki was unharmed and easy to find. Amy had said that she might ‘find her’. She had to hold on to that.