Dark Game_A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked!

by Rachel Lynch

  He went back to the bedroom to reassure himself that Nush really was dead, then looked around for something to wrap her in. She wouldn’t be heavy; they were all the same, these young girls, they’d rather starve and buy fags than eat. Now she could join Roza in the back of his car, and he could tell Marko that he’d tidied up not one problem, but two. He stripped a couple of pillowcases and put one over Nush’s head down to her shoulders, and another over her feet. He fetched a sheet, then wrapped her up and taped her, just like he had Roza, and went to get bin bags from the kitchen. By the time he was finished, it was totally dark outside.

  The flats had no gardens, just yards, and the alleyways were dark and deserted. He carried Anushka’s body outside and heaved it into his boot alongside Roza’s. He was surprised that there was still no smell, but it didn’t matter anyway because they’d be gone soon enough.

  He returned to the flat and decided to have a vodka to celebrate. One led to another and he drifted off listening to music through headphones. His sleep was shallow and he darted between images. It happened a lot; it was his brain’s way of processing all the shit he’d done. Faces, mainly of girls, came to him and pleaded with him. There were hundreds of them. Sometimes he dreamt of them as slabs of meat in a factory, all hooked up ready for the client to choose their favourite cut. They writhed and moaned and looked silly; they were just pieces of meat, right?

  Sometimes they had names.

  By the time he woke from his stupor, it was an hour or so before dawn. The birds hadn’t yet started to sing and the moon was still out. Traffic had ceased, apart from the odd taxi, and it was a good time to drive to Ambleside.

  He showered to sober up. He felt ill and couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Thoughts whirred in his head. He’d shown he had balls, and now it was time to tell Marko. Roza and Nush were pretty busy girls and they must’ve racked up a fair amount of cash. All he had to do was find it, and he had a pretty good hunch that he should start with their room at the Troutbeck Guest House. If he could find it and give it to Marko – well, most of it anyway – then he could make even more of an impression on his boss.

  He took a last look around the flat and wondered if he’d be back. It was rented for cash and the owner would come and reclaim it if the payments stopped. He was going to disappear into Marko’s world, of that he was sure. He thought of the way his mum shook her head whenever she saw him.

  ‘When’s the last time you had a shower? Are you taking drugs? When was your last proper meal?’ she’d admonish. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had no choice. She should never have had him in the first place. Besides, he’d inherited his love of the booze from her.

  He threw his few things into a bag, then locked the flat and went to the car. It was non-descript and low-spec, but it did the job. The streets were empty and the lamps shone on damp roads. It was a good time to leave.

  He didn’t look back. He drove past the turning to his mum’s house on his way through Dalton and on to the A590, stopping for petrol in Ulverston and buying a sandwich, though he wasn’t hungry. He was through Newby Bridge in twenty minutes. Ambleside would take him another twenty. Beyond that, he didn’t know where he would end up, only that he needed to find the cash.

  Chapter 14

  Kelly was parked outside Caffè Nero, waiting for Jenny to bring them coffee. She’d called the office and told them she’d be away for the rest of the day. It was gone three o’clock and she still had to pay Alan Bell a visit: the fell runner who’d found Lottie’s body. She was chilly, and looked in the boot for a jacket. It didn’t help that she was wearing a skirt and thin tights; yet again, she wished she could wear more casual clothes to work. In reality she could wear what she liked, but a lot of the job involved extracting information from people unwilling to give it, and she had to project some kind of authority.

  The office had informed her that the hospital had called to say the unknown woman was making progress and they should be able to visit her tomorrow. That was good news, although they hadn’t yet been able to pin down a language expert. Kelly had the name of some professor at Lancaster University, and she made a note to call him later. She also had a phone call to make to DI Craig Lockwood at Barrow’s Serious Crime Unit. If the Lottie Davis case were to take her to Barrow again, she really ought to inform them. At some point down the line she might need their aid, and she wanted to introduce herself before they got wind that a copper from North Lakes was snooping around asking questions. News travelled fast here – Kelly hadn’t forgotten that in the time she’d been away – and she didn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.

  Her thoughts turned to Jenny Davis’s brother. He was more than a little odd but that didn’t necessarily mean he had anything to do with Lottie’s disappearance. But she was keen to speak to Wade Maddox.

  She rang her mother.

  ‘Hi, Mum, I’ll be really late. I’m in Barrow.’

  ‘What are you doing there?’ her mother asked. It sounded like a challenge rather than an enquiry, and Kelly was fifteen again. The details didn’t matter; the distrust remained the same. As far as her mother was concerned, she must be doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

  She sighed and watched Jenny carry two coffees to the car. She had dropped Jenny in town while she went to the address Dennis had given her for Wade Maddox. His mother had answered the door and informed her that Wade no longer lived with her, and that wherever he was it probably wasn’t good. Kelly established that Mrs Maddox wasn’t her son’s biggest fan; she was quickly piecing together a picture of Wade Maddox as somebody who perhaps wasn’t that popular.

  ‘I’ve just got to make one more phone call, Jenny, then we’ll get off,’ she said. ‘I’ve got someone else I need to see in Ambleside, so I want to get back there before five if I can. I’ll drop you at home first.’ Jenny didn’t need to know that she was going to see the man who’d discovered her daughter’s body.

  ‘Thank you, Kelly. I’ve got a friend in Dean Street if you have to do something else in Barrow before we head back,’ Jenny replied.

  ‘Perfect,’ Kelly said. That would give her time to pay DI Lockwood a visit.

  Jenny directed her to Dean Street and got out of the car. Kelly promised that she wouldn’t be long. She watched Jenny walk away, then called the Barrow DI.

  ‘Detective Inspector Craig Lockwood speaking.’ The voice was sharp, formal and clear. Kelly explained her situation briefly. He’d heard of the case and, like everyone, glad it was being reinvestigated. She told him of her desire to track down Wade Maddox and why, and it piqued his interest. He invited her to his office. The man didn’t mess around. From his direct manner it was clear that he could be an asset to her.

  She found the station easily and was led to the correct department. The place was smaller than Penrith but had a similar atmosphere. Officers worked at their desks or shared information over coffee. The room was amicable and people smiled at her.

  DI Lockwood was in his mid-forties. He stood well over six feet tall and his forearm was the width of Kelly’s calf. He had an open face but eyes that drilled holes in their beholder. Barrow had its fair share of crime and she’d bet he’d seen a bit. She was intrigued by him and his smile disarmed her. She put out her hand and he took it. He had a solid handshake, just as she’d expected.

  ‘So you’re looking for Wade Maddox? I knew his dad. He started off as a petty criminal, you know, nicking stuff, drunk and disorderly. Job turned nasty and he ended up in jail. The lad never stood a chance. One of those you could pick out from the pram and predict he’d end up banged up or beaten up.’

  ‘Yes, I know the sort,’ Kelly replied. ‘Have you always worked Barrow?’ she asked.

  ‘Nah, I was in Manchester for fifteen years until I got too old and fancied a break.’ They both laughed, and Lockwood winked. Burnout. It was lethal. Now she knew he’d seen plenty of shit if he’d worked Manchester for fifteen years.

  ‘So do you know Wade as well?’
/>   ‘Course I do. He’s a scrote. What’s he got to do with the Lottie Davis case?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I need to ask him some questions.’ Kelly filled him in on their conversation in her car at Biggar Bank. Lockwood raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I remember that case well. It sticks in everyone’s throat that it wasn’t solved. You said you tried Wade’s mum?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know where some of his mates hang out.’ Lockwood looked at his watch. ‘Can you come back tomorrow? If you’ve got to see someone in Ambleside tonight, you could go and do that and I’ll track down Wade.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, no problem.’

  Kelly smiled. ‘Thanks.’ She was glad she’d dropped by. She was building leads and she had an ally.

  She walked back to her car and returned to Dean Street. Jenny was ready to leave and Kelly was reminded of the woman’s obliging nature. They set off and straight away hit traffic on the A590. There was a good reason why North and South Lakes forces were separate, thought Kelly. There weren’t many options when trying to navigate around Cumbria. There was pretty much one route to everywhere, and only fells in between. Not given to patience, she had to fight her irritation, but Jenny was pleasant company. The traffic eased towards Coniston and soon they were heading under the shadows of Coniston Old Man and a clear drive to Ambleside.

  ‘Thank you, Kelly,’ Jenny said when they pulled up outside her house. ‘And thank you for looking into Lottie’s case again.’

  Kelly smiled. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said. She watched Jenny go into her house, then checked the address she had for Alan Bell.

  Chapter 15

  Alan Bell seemed nervous when he answered the door. Kelly showed him her badge and was eventually invited in.

  ‘Like I said on the phone, Alan, it’s about Lottie Davis. I’m looking into the case again.’

  Alan nodded. He ushered her into his lounge and they stood uneasily opposite one another. Kelly was used to witnesses being tense. She looked around the sparse little room and guessed that he lived alone. The only decorative features were paintings of peaks and Lake District scenes hung badly on the walls.

  ‘You’re a fell runner?’ she asked him. He relaxed a little and even smiled.

  ‘Yes, I used to compete,’ he said. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  Kelly didn’t want to break the moment, and anyway she was full of coffee.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thank you,’ she said.

  He sat down and she followed his lead. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

  ‘I was running that day. I was training for the Wastwater scree race, which was the following week. Dobbin Wood is a good place to do it because of the gradients round there. I was hill training.’

  Kelly nodded; he’d get round to it in his own good time. Her back ached and she wanted to stretch. She longed to get out of her tights and go for a run herself. She waited.

  ‘I slipped. I was pushing too hard. I slid down a dip and fell into a hole covered in loose leaves and earth and stuff. It stank.’ He put his hand over his mouth. Kelly knew what rotting flesh smelled like; it never left you. ‘I thought it was a deer or something, you know? Then I saw the red cloth and an arm and I knew it was a person, and then it hit me that it was a child.’ He put his hand over his mouth again.

  ‘The police told me a few days later that it was the missing girl, and I felt terrible for the parents.’ He spread his hands and looked at Kelly. She waited. He said nothing else.

  ‘So you went straight to the police?’

  ‘I dialled 999 right then.’

  ‘Do you know Dennis Hill, Alan?’

  ‘No,’ he replied without hesitation.

  ‘Wade Maddox?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you know Ian Davis? Lottie’s father?’ Kelly already knew the answer.

  Alan paused. ‘We played squash together now and again, but I didn’t know the family,’ he added nervously.

  ‘I’ve got a bit of a problem there, Alan,’ Kelly said. Alan shifted in his seat. She carried on. ‘Jenny Davis told me that Charlie and Lottie regularly watched their dad play squash and sometimes went to McDonald’s afterwards with Daddy’s friend called Alan. Am I wrong to presume that’s you? Are there any other members of the squash club called Alan?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘So if they remembered you, why don’t you remember them?’

  Alan swallowed, and his hands went back to his face. Kelly watched him. She had nothing on him, but he’d lied to a police inquiry and she wanted to know why. She had no warrant, no evidence and no right to keep him talking, but she’d fired a warning shot and he’d remain a person of interest until she was convinced otherwise. He was holding something back; in effect, denying that he knew the victim.

  ‘We only went to McDonald’s once,’ he said. ‘Kids are kids, you know? If you haven’t got them yourself, you don’t really take any notice of them.’

  Kelly accepted that this was a legitimate explanation. The same thing happened to her: friends would introduce her to their little darlings and she would instantly forget their names. But Alan had played squash with Ian, and Ian must have talked about his kids all the time.

  ‘Did Ian continue to play squash after Lottie was killed?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I never saw him again.’

  ‘Didn’t you call him? Surely you’d become friends?’

  Alan looked away. ‘I didn’t know what to say. I never knew if they were told who found her.’ His face crumpled and he wiped his eyes.

  Kelly got up and handed him a card.

  ‘Please, Alan, if you remember anything else at all, call me.’

  He took the card and nodded.

  * * *

  After the detective had gone, Alan made himself a cup of coffee and went back over what he’d told the police all those years ago. What a mess. He’d only taken the kids to McDonald’s once, for God’s sake. Usually they waited in the car after squash, when Ian came in with him to pick up a new racquet or a packet of balls, or for a quick coffee. No one could ever know that he never actually left with any of those things. Their sex was quick but immensely enjoyable because of the illicit risks involved. Neither man was ready to be outed, though.

  Ian wasn’t Lottie’s killer, but he might as well have been in his own mind. Losing his little girl had crushed him, and Alan could only guess at what he’d gone through. They only had one conversation after her body was found. It was their last. Ian told him that he was convinced that Lottie’s death was some kind of fucked-up punishment for being gay and that he would pay for it with his own life. Alan had thought him dramatic and put it down to grief. A few weeks later, he heard that he had killed himself.

  He couldn’t change his story now. Truth was like a sand dune, and once you slid off the top, there was no way back until it had carried you all the way to the bottom. In any case, Ian’s wife had been through too much already. Alan wasn’t sure how much shitty news one person could withstand, but he was pretty sure that having your daughter murdered, your husband hang himself and then finding out he’d been gay all along would be high up there on the list of stuff guaranteed to send you over the edge. No, he’d take Ian’s secret to his own grave.

  Chapter 16

  Kelly’s late drive back to Ambleside meant that by the time she reached the Kirkstone Pass, it was dark. It looked entirely different from earlier in the day. As she drove, she mulled over all the things she’d learned today, and for the first time since moving back, she felt as though she had her teeth into something. It only took her forty minutes to write up her reports back at Eden House, after which she left for home.

  Her mood dipped as she pulled up outside her mother’s house. She had no idea when she’d make the time to look at houses for sale, but every time she parked up here, she knew she had to. She let herself in and shouted down the hallway as brightly as she could.

  ‘Hi, Mum!�
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  Wendy Porter looked around the kitchen door.

  ‘Hi, love. Gosh, it’s really late. It reminds me of when your dad worked silly hours. I was on my own with you and your sister, trying to feed you and bathe you and get you off to bed, and he’d come in and start singing to you just as I got you settled. It drove me mad.’

  ‘I bet it did,’ Kelly said. ‘I’m starving, but I need to get out for a run first. It’s been a really long day.’

  ‘But it’s dark,’ her mother said.

  Kelly could hear the TV on in the lounge. It was a soap. Dad had never allowed them.

  ‘I’m a big girl now, Mum.’

  ‘Well be careful,’ warned her mother.

  ‘I will be.’ Kelly laughed at the irony and was glad her mother hadn’t seen where she used to run in London.

  This morning’s argument seemed to be forgotten, but Kelly still felt a little guilty and wished she didn’t play into her sister’s hands so often. At least Nikki had gone home.

  ‘I’m sorry about this morning,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve already said that. You’ve got a temper like your father, but your sister knows what she’s doing too. I should just bang your heads together.’

  Kelly wondered what it must be like for a parent to raise two kids only for them to end up disliking one another so openly. She didn’t hate Nikki; she just had nothing in common with her. Every word and every action revealed their differences. She was sure that Nikki felt the same about her, judging by the looks of disapproval she got from her sibling. They’d chosen different paths, that was all. Kelly would never have been able to live Nikki’s life; it was too straight, too safe.

  She went upstairs to change and savoured the moment she slipped her tights off to be replaced by running shorts. She connected her phone to her headphones and selected her favourite playlist, giving her mum a quick kiss on the way out. The hairs on her arms stood up when the beat started. She made her way up the hill round the back of their house, and towards Beacon Hill. It wasn’t overly taxing but it was challenge enough. The dark enveloped her, with only sparse street lighting showing the way, and she fell into a rhythm. Her thoughts turned to her day and she tried to process all the information she’d collected.