Deep Fear

by Deep Fear (retail) (epub)

  Amy looked at her feet and placed the teapot back onto the counter. Kelly didn’t move. Amy set about tidying up the shards of pottery and Kelly decided to help. She knelt down and their fingers touched. A shot of adrenaline hit Kelly and she felt like getting the nurse by her hair and ramming the teapot into her face and bashing her with it over and over again. She breathed, and carried on gathering bits of smashed pot. Amy resumed tea-making duties and Kelly looked around.

  The house was completely empty apart from the kitchen. The lack of furnishings made even the tiniest sound echo, and Kelly felt chilly. She wondered if she’d get an opportunity to attack. She’d only get one.

  ‘So which was your favourite?’ Amy asked.

  Kelly didn’t understand the question. ‘Sorry? My favourite what?’

  ‘Sacrifice, lesson, candidate…purification if you like?’ Amy said, pouring hot water. Kelly thought about running over and grabbing the kettle, throwing boiling hot water over the woman, but her brain quickly performed a risk assessment and ruled it out: she could easily become the victim instead. In under thirty seconds, the plan was dismissed.

  ‘Sacrifice? Purification?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Well, somebody who needs removing, of course. Like Aileen, like Moira, for example. Which one was your favourite?’

  Amy stirred sugar into the hot liquid. Kelly felt as though she was outside her own body, and she swayed very slightly. She wasn’t sure if she was actually living her own reality or it was a dream. She grabbed the counter with one hand to steady herself, and took a deep breath.

  ‘Amy, this isn’t a game. You tortured those women.’

  ‘Well, now, you’re wrong. Torture is relative. You could say that I helped them, and the rest of us,’ Amy said cheerily, as if discussing walking socks, and whether to wear them inside or outside boots. Again, Kelly fantasised about having a gun.

  ‘Mine was–’ Amy began to speak.

  ‘Stop!’ Kelly held up her hand. ‘I don’t want to know. Please, I don’t want to know. I think you’re sick, you need help. Hand yourself in. They’ll find you soon anyway. You’ve stayed in Penrith! I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re on their way now. It’s all over.’ She was pleading with a murderer – something she never envisaged happening.

  Amy stopped stirring.

  ‘But no-one knows we’re here.’

  And Kelly knew it to be true.

  ‘Amy, where’s my sister?’

  Kelly watched the other woman closely. It was as if a veil of vapour had descended upon her: Amy’s face had gone from jovially discussing sugar in tea, to the look of an anger so intense it was all-consuming. Kelly backed away. Chatty, childlike Amy had disappeared again. Kelly’s eyes darted here and there. She decided to call Amy’s bluff, she had nothing to lose.

  ‘They do know! The police – we all knew. We knew about this place, they’ll be on their way now. I guarantee it. Hand yourself in and I’ll protect you!’

  As quickly as it had come, the veil lifted, and Amy turned around and continued to stir the tea.

  ‘Let’s sit down,’ Amy said, and left the room after handing Kelly a mug.

  Again, Kelly had the unsettling sense of being outside her own body. For the second time in as many weeks, she’d been made tea by The Teacher. Her free hand moved towards her jacket, to where her phone would usually sit. She felt naked without it. She wished she carried some kind of GPS that she could set off, but she’d never contemplated kidnap. A second thought seized her: there was nowhere to sit. She’d spotted no furniture at all in the two rooms they’d passed. Maybe there was another room.

  She followed Amy, who walked towards a door at the end of the hallway. The hall was dark and windowless, and Kelly struggled to make out shapes. She watched Amy’s back: it was broad and firm. The grey sweat suit made Amy look like a man. Kelly thought of what her victims felt as she leant over them and taunted them about their lessons. Moira would have gone willingly with the nurse who cared for her mother. Brandy would have got into anyone’s car offering drugs and Amy had access. Aileen might remember the kind nurse from her countless visits, and Nicola might have accepted a lift home from a colleague. It had all happened under their noses. But it had begun years ago, with the woman who fell down the stairs.

  ‘Why did you kill your mother, Amy?’

  Amy stopped in the hall. Kelly still had no idea what Amy’s plan was, because even psychos have plans.

  Kelly looked at her mug of tea, there’d be no point throwing it at the woman in front of her: it would simply bounce off. She had no idea where the front door was, and she knew that the garage was locked. There was nothing on the walls – no pictures or mirrors – that could potentially be used as weapons. She looked down at her shoes; they were heeled but it would take some strength to cause any damage, and Amy would easily overpower her if she worked out her intention.

  Kelly listened for traffic. She heard no sirens. She was kidding herself that they’d ever be found. Not before it was too late. And she still didn’t know where Nikki was. She refused to think about the possibility that Nikki was already dead. She thought about Johnny: what would he do? Had he been in a similar situation in combat? Face to face with an enemy fighter, with no weapons, and no way out? What would he do if faced with an opponent of obvious greater strength?

  She had no idea. He’d probably go for it anyway.

  But Kelly wasn’t a man. She couldn’t do what men could do.

  But Amy could.

  Amy began walking again, and Kelly kept following.

  And thinking.

  Amy stopped in front of the door, then turned around.

  ‘You might want a sip of that tea,’ she said to Kelly.

  Kelly looked at the tea and her hand shook slightly, sending the pale brown liquid over the edges on to the floor.

  ‘Oh Christ! I’m sorry,’ Kelly said, as if she’d spilled some wine at a friend’s house. She questioned her reality once more, and she realised that she was also questioning her sanity. It was quite plausible that in the last couple of days, she’d actually become insane, and what she was experiencing at the moment was simply a manifestation of that fact. Amy smiled at her and Kelly found it repulsive.

  Amy turned round again and took a key from her pocket, and faced the door once more.

  ‘I didn’t think you wanted it.’ Killer Amy was back.

  The key turned and the lock clicked.

  Amy opened the door without removing the key from its lock.

  Very quietly, Kelly placed her dripping mug on the floor.

  Within a second, she’d reached Amy and kicked her into the room from behind.

  She grabbed the door, slammed it shut, and locked it. She removed the key and slipped it into her pocket.

  Kelly shook violently and she willed herself calm. She scrabbled around her tired brain, trying to make sense of something – anything. Think! Think, she told herself. She ran around the tiny house, going in and out of rooms, opening drawers, finding nothing and closing them. Then, she retraced her steps to the garage, and beyond that there was a front door.

  It was locked.

  She went back to the kitchen and looked around. There was a small step ladder leaning against the wall and she took it and hammered it against the window of the front door. She repeated the slamming four or five times and then stopped, exhausted.

  Then she realised that, in her smug excited psychotic haste, Amy Richmond had left her mobile phone on the kitchen counter. Kelly grabbed it and dialled the first number that came into her head. She didn’t know any colleagues’ numbers by heart.

  * * *

  At Eden House, Johnny didn’t recognise the number. He was about to ignore it, but he pressed the green symbol, curious.

  ‘Johnny, thank god,’ Kelly whispered.

  ‘Kelly!’ Johnny shouted, attracting three or four officers from the next room. They rushed in and stood around him. He held out his hand, indicating for them to be quiet.

 
‘Shut up and listen!’ Kelly said. She reeled off the address, memorised as they pulled into the street, and hung up. She’d heard something.

  ‘Kelly!’ Johnny shouted, but she’d gone.

  Kelly’s hand shook.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, Kelly,’ shouted a voice. It was Amy. Her voice was buoyant, maniacal even.

  Kelly’s chest heaved with the effort of smashing the ladder against the door, and from making contact with the outside world, and hearing Johnny’s voice. She listened. And turned towards the door at the end of the corridor.

  ‘I think you’ve just made a big mistake, Kelly.’ Amy’s voice was taunting and high pitched. ‘You really should come and open the door.’

  Then Kelly heard a scream from the same room.

  It was Nikki.

  Chapter 63

  Penrith was awash with high visibility vests, as officers went door to door in their search.

  But now they had an address. And they knew that Kelly Porter was still alive. Eden House emptied in under thirty minutes, and Johnny got lost in the rush. He spotted the one who had introduced herself as Emma and followed her. The others were busy talking rapidly and barking orders and instructions. In the distance, Johnny heard sirens. He felt helpless.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Officers shouted, bodies ran in all directions, and radios cackled.

  Johnny wondered if anyone had a decent weapon, or if they intended to take on The Teacher with a few truncheons and the odd taser.

  He didn’t expect to be offered a lift and so he ran. He knew the way. He’d run for the best part of a hundred miles wearing only stiff army boots, in a monsoon and in the dark before now. He’d lost three of the five men he led that night, but they’d made their final destination.

  Penrith was a small town and Johnny knew how to cut off main roads and traffic lights. Even with blues, the coppers would probably arrive at the same time he did.

  He didn’t watch the detectives leave. And they didn’t see him pull on a pair of trainers, casually left under someone’s desk. In their haste, the scruffy man who said he was DI Porter’s boyfriend was forgotten.

  * * *

  Super Ormond authorised three Armed Response Teams to attend the scene, and DCI Cane hitched a lift with DS Umshaw. DC Hide drove.

  They’d all heard their DI on speaker phone as the garbled message was played back over and over. At least it proved who Johnny Frietze was. Out of everyone on the team, Kelly Porter had called him.

  Ten of Penrith’s fourteen units were put out to attend the scene using blues. As they stepped outside, sirens could be heard in the distance as all over the town, blue lights raced to the Redgill estate. It was right next door to Scaws.

  * * *

  Johnny’s lungs screamed.

  He took the back of Hoad Hill and jumped garden fences all the way, for about a mile, until it took him to the outskirts of the town. His unexpected run was accompanied by sirens all over town. He saw a helicopter overhead and knew from the noise of its blades that it was press, not police. If only the police were as well-resourced as Sky News, he thought; they’d perhaps catch baddies quicker.

  As he ran over two roundabouts, causing three cars to swerve, he knew he was close. The Scaws Estate loomed up on his left, and, this close to midnight, it looked every inch its sinister den of vice. The Redgill Estate was a mile away.

  His arms pumped, and the unfamiliar trainers rubbed his feet in the absence of socks. He ignored the pain. He’d driven into Redgill by mistake once and he knew it to be a rabbit warren of flats and old people’s bungalows. It was also where Penrith’s dropouts scored most of their gear. It wasn’t the kind of place that anyone would want to find themselves after dark, at this hour, unless on the lookout for a hit. But it didn’t matter much. By the time he entered the estate, flashing lights were beginning to overtake him and he saw Emma staring out of a car window at him, her mouth gaping open.

  He waved.

  Seven vehicles were already there by the time he arrived, and a small crowd had gathered. Twitter had exploded all over the country, as people posted the locations of police vehicles and selfies. The hashtag #TheTeacher had gone viral, and some reports said that it had been used seven hundred thousand times already this evening. Videos of the scene were trending on Instagram, and half the battle for the police at the scene was keeping civilians away; already they were using tape and physical presence to do so. Johnny forced his way to the front and headed to where the car carrying Emma had gone.

  He was stopped at the tape by a burly uniform and he shouted Emma at the top of his voice. She turned and spoke to a colleague for a few seconds and then she approached him.

  ‘We can’t let you any closer, Johnny. I know what you’re thinking. You have to let the Armed Response Teams deal with it. There’s nothing you can do. It’s the same for us. Let them do their job. No-one can get close until they’ve gone in. You know that.’

  ‘At least let me go beyond the rubber-neckers. Come on!’

  Emma looked around and lifted the tape. She took him to a vehicle and ordered him to stay put.

  ‘For God’s sake, don’t let me down, I’ll get sacked.’

  Johnny did as he was told for now.

  Chapter 64

  Wendy watched the news.

  In front of her, on the screen, she saw pictures of two women. One was a nurse who she knew well and the other was her daughter. From what she could make out, the nurse was wanted by the police, and Kelly had somehow found herself held within the house with her. She was puzzled.

  Then a photograph of Nikki came on the screen.

  Wendy’s head hurt, and she was beginning to experience chest pain. She called Kelly’s number but it was dead. Then, like she did every hour or so she called Nikki’s number, but that was also dead. She felt powerless and kept in the dark, and it frustrated her. Perhaps she should call 999 and ask them. But that might mean the difference between some poor soul being helped or not.

  She had a sinking feeling that she needed help, and no amount of drugs could alleviate her symptoms. It felt like her heart was breaking. But she was convinced that something else was going on. She felt very unwell, she knew that for sure, but she was struggling to work out how much was her illness and how much of it was her emotions.

  Questions muddled her brain, such as: why were so many police involved for just one person? She instinctively knew that she was watching a serious situation develop, but she had no idea why. Perhaps the nurse was in trouble and Kelly was helping her, she thought. But then she remembered that the police spokesperson had explicitly called Amy Richmond ‘dangerous’ on TV.

  Dangerous. Wendy didn’t think it possible. Besides, Kelly was involved in a serious case at the moment, so it baffled her further as to why she would get involved in something else.

  ‘The nurse, Amy Richmond, is a suspect in the investigation into the four murdered women, here in Cumbria, over the last few weeks. It’s not clear what Amy Richmond’s connection to the case is, but the police are urging people to stay away from the area – or if they live nearby, lock the door and stay inside,’ a reporter said.

  He was stood on the corner of a street, sirens wailing and lights flashing behind him. People pushed past him, and uniformed police could be seen herding people away from the scene. Wendy looked beyond the policeman to the houses, and she recognised it as the Redgill estate. A house was surrounded but the cameras couldn’t get close enough for Wendy to make out details.

  Wendy replayed the words over in her mind. A suspect? How could the nurse be a suspect? sShe thought. Wendy had been nursed by the woman for a long time, and she liked to think that she’d got to know her. She’d shared her thoughts and feelings with her, and the nurse had sat on her bed and held her hand. Every time she was admitted, the nurse made a point of looking after her. Wendy had told her stories about the girls, and about how it broke her heart that they didn’t get along.

  The nurse had been gentle and kind, and h
ad listened to it all patiently.

  And besides, everyone called The Teacher a man. It was a silly name, and insensitive to the families to give him a nickname. Kelly said it was necessary, helpful even, she said it helped focus the public. Wendy tried Kelly’s number again, knowing that she’d get the same tone. She put her phone down and closed her eyes. She wished she knew what was going on. Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it, hoping that it might be one of her girls.

  It was Matt.

  ‘Wendy?’ he said. She could hear sirens and people shouting.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at home, I’ve got the TV on, are you watching?’

  ‘That’s on loud!’ she said. ‘Yes, I’m watching, but I can’t understand it, Matt. Do you know what’s going on?’

  ‘I went to the police station and they wouldn’t tell me details, but they said that they are looking for Kelly and the nurse.’

  ‘Well, that’s what it said on TV, but why would they be looking for the nurse? And why don’t they know where Kelly is?’

  ‘Mam,’ he said. He’d always called her Mam.

  ‘The nurse that is on TV – she nursed me, Matt – I know her. She’s lovely, she must be in some kind of trouble, and that’s why Kelly is with her. Is that helpful? Should I speak to someone?’

  ‘Mam, I think it’s a bit more complicated than that. They think the nurse is the one who has been killing those women.’ He let the words sink in.

  ‘No! Surely not. That’s a mistake. How could they get it so wrong? Is Kelly with her? She wouldn’t be with her if that was the case, now would she?’

  Matt closed his eyes. He should have gone round there in person. He didn’t want to leave the kids. They’d been without their mother for almost two nights now and he couldn’t give them any answers. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know anyone he could ask to come and sit with them. Her so-called friends were either out on the town or glued to the TV. It was Friday night, after all.