by Helen Phifer
She rolled onto her side, thinking about Joss, when a loud knock on the door made her jump from her bed and look out of the window. He was standing outside her door, as if her thinking about him had summoned him to her doorstep. She was naked and grabbed the sheet from her bed, wrapping it around herself, then she ran down the stairs. She opened the door a crack, to see him grinning at her like an excited schoolboy and she smiled back.
‘Good morning, Betsy. I trust you slept well and are not feeling too ill today?’
‘I did, thank you, Joss. I would have slept better with you beside me, though.’ She noted the faint redness that worked its way up from his neck to his face. ‘Oh, come now, Joss, do not tell me you are that shy. I find that hard to believe.’
She stepped away from the door so he could come inside the house. She had the sheet wrapped around her naked body so tightly he could not miss the soft curves it was hiding. He stepped in and shut the door behind him, taking off his flat cap.
‘No, Betsy, I am not that shy and I have come today to tell you that I have hardly slept a wink all night for thinking about you. I lay in my cold bed yearning to have your soft, warm body next to mine and I kept on telling myself I was a fool for walking out last night. But I have my sons to consider and I still love my wife, even though she died more than a year ago now.’
Betsy tried not to growl at the mention of his boys. If Joss noticed the look of distaste which darkened her pretty face for a moment he didn’t speak of it. She made herself smile at him then walked towards him, letting the sheet drop to the floor and exposing her naked body. Joss paused then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his lips finding hers. She ran her fingers through his hair then held it tight so that he couldn’t pull away and this time he didn’t. He groaned and then scooped her into his strong arms, carrying her to the bed in the corner, in which her mother had died only five days ago. Betsy didn’t stop him and lay there on the clean sheets, waiting for him to undress and come to her.
That the front door was unlocked did not bother her one bit; she would quite like it if someone had walked in on them. It would have made Joss squirm and he would have had to ask for her hand in marriage so he didn’t ruin her reputation in the village.
After they had finished and Joss was breathing heavily from the exertion he rolled off her and lay next to her, stroking her hair. ‘That was wonderful, thank you, Betsy.’
She laughed at him. Thank you? Do you thank all the women you sleep with?’
‘No, I do not… You are the first one. Well, except for my…’
He didn’t say anything else, pushing the guilt and betrayal to the back of his mind. He was too young to spend his life a widower and he had to think of his boys. Betsy was only young but she would make a good wife and mother, given time. He shut his eyes and began so snore ever so softly.
Betsy stood up and went to wash herself and get dressed, humming the whole time. There was no way he wouldn’t fall in love with her now; she had given him what most men wanted. She would tell him when he woke up that it had been her first time and watch him think about proposing to her there and then. Of course, it wasn’t her first time but he wouldn’t know that; her first time had been with the travelling preacher who came to the village four years ago. Her mother had welcomed him into their home, offering him food and shelter, and while she was asleep Betsy had offered him her bed. He’d left after four days, telling Betsy he was becoming infatuated with her and he had a wife and children at home. She had laughed at him and watched him saddle up his horse, leaving the village with his head hung in shame when she had told him her age. There had been a few more since then—some of the village idiots and the occasional traveller who came into the pub for refreshments. Her mother would have been distraught to know her daughter was nothing more than a brazen whore but Betsy didn’t care; she did whatever it was she wanted and sometimes having a man was exactly what she wanted.
She walked over to the bed and shook his shoulder. Joss opened his eyes and blinked, confusion filling his mind, and then he realised where he was and grinned at her. She bent down to kiss him and he tried to pull her back down but she playfully shoved him away and stood up.
‘Haven’t you got some cows to milk or something?’
He sat up. ‘Bloody hell… What time is it, Betsy? I only came to check on you. I wasn’t supposed to…’
He didn’t finish his sentence as he clambered from the bed, pulling his trousers on and then his shoes.
‘I do have cows to milk and pigs and sheep to feed. Would you like to come to the farm for supper, Betsy? I’d like you to come and meet my boys and spend some time with me.’
‘Why, thank you, Joss, I would love to come for tea and meet the boys.’
She had to stop herself from grimacing at the thought of the children but she knew she would have to put up with them if she was to get what she wanted.
‘What time shall I come to your house, Joss?’
‘We don’t eat until six—gives me the chance to have finished my jobs and then I spend the rest of the night with the boys, unless my mother takes them back to the farm for the night, and then I come to the pub to see your pretty face.’
Betsy blushed; no one had called her pretty before. She knew she wasn’t ugly but it was nice to hear Joss say it to her. She crossed over to him and kissed him again, letting her fingers trail over the front of his trousers.
‘Thank you, Joss; it is very kind of you to say. I think I am falling in love with you.’
He smiled then turned to leave. ‘Please come for some tea, Betsy, I would really like it if you did. Although, I have to confess, once I get you in my house I may not let you go, for I’m falling in love with you as well.’
She pushed him out of the front door. ‘Go and milk some cows. I will see you at six, Joss, and not a minute before.’
She watched him jog off down the small cobbled street towards the village square and could not help smiling. Perfect—her plan was going just as she’d imagined. It wouldn’t be long before she had moved into that lovely cottage Joss owned. The only black cloud hanging over her was the children, but she had a plan for them if she did not like them as much as she feared: one that involved a small box of white powder she had hidden in a tin in the pantry.
Chapter Seven
It was Will’s turn to make the brews and he stood by the kettle waiting for it to boil. He could see the whiteboards which, thankfully, had no photos of dead women Blu-Tacked onto them. Since the last murder spree the town had quietened down, thank God, although he no longer took anything for granted. The national papers had begun to nickname Barrow as the murder capital of England. For such a small town the murder rate was incredibly high. Two serial killers in the space of twelve months was quite unbelievable: one locked in a secure mental hospital and the other a policeman who was now locked in solitary confinement for his own safety for the rest of his life. Lost in thought, the loud click as the kettle turned itself off brought him back to reality. His phone began to ring on his desk but he ignored it. If it was important they would ring back. He poured the boiling water into his and Stu’s mugs and stirred the drinks. He passed one to Stu, who was sitting with his feet on the desk playing Candy Crush on his phone. Will shook his head at him in mock horror.
‘You know, for a grown man you sure do act like a big kid. I mean, for Christ’s sake, sending me a request for a life on that stupid game on Facebook is going just a touch too far, don’t you think? Real men play Call of Duty, not some bollocks about sweets.’
‘I play Call of Duty as well, you cheeky git, and I’m a real man. Just ask Debs; it’s me who has to get rid of the spiders in our house.’
Will laughed. ‘Yes, right, I believe you. Have you got a decent suit for my wedding then? I bet you’ve got a pink shirt and tie. If I was you, I’d let Debs pick one out for you, judging by your work suits. I don’t want you letting the side down.’
He winked at Stu, who gave
him the finger.
‘Ah bollocks, you just made me die.’
Will spat coffee all over himself as he choked on his laughter, and went to get a paper towel to mop it up. As he came back into the room a very white-faced Stu was standing behind Will’s desk, talking on the phone.
‘Yes, boss, I’ll tell him. Thanks; we’ll be there as soon as we can. Which hospital are they going to?’
Stu stared at Will, who felt his heart sink to the bottom of his shoes; he’d known it had been too good to be true. That was his fault for thinking how quiet it had been, the q word was banned in the station because whenever anyone said it out loud all hell broke loose.
Will arched his eyebrows at Stu. ‘Crap—tell me then, or are you going to dither for the next ten minutes?’
‘That was the control inspector; there’s been an accident on the road to Hawkshead… A farmer found a car that had crashed through the hedge and ploughed into a tree.’
Will felt his world come crashing down on him; he knew the next words out of Stu’s mouth would be that it was a red convertible Mini.
‘Is she alive? Tell me she’s okay, Stu, please tell me she is.’
‘He said the fire service were cutting her free. Yes, she’s unconscious but breathing. The air ambulance has just landed in the field next to her and she’ll be in Barrow shortly. I’ll drive you to the hospital.’
Will nodded; he couldn’t speak. His stomach was churning and he wanted to throw up. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and his mobile off the desk and followed Stu out of the CID office. Kav was running up the corridor, looking whiter than Will.
‘Have you heard about Annie?’
Will didn’t trust himself to speak; he nodded. Kav reached out and squeezed Will’s shoulder. ‘I want a full update as soon as you get one, please. Jesus, what’s she like?’
Will half smiled. She was bloody terrible. An accident magnet, she’d been through so much the last few years and he didn’t know how to keep her safe. She wouldn’t let him take care of her or provide for her, insisting on carrying on being a police officer after almost being killed twice. He wanted to blue-light it up to where she was but it would probably be too late and by the time he’d got there the air ambulance would have left; he would just have to wait at the hospital for them to arrive. He followed Stu out of the station and across the road to the car park, getting into the front passenger seat of the unmarked car. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t lose her now; his life would be finished. His hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t fasten his seat belt and Stu had to reach over and plug it in for him.
The hospital wasn’t far away but it felt like the slowest journey Will had ever made, even though Stu was driving faster than the speed limit. As they drove through the hospital grounds Will told Stu to stop so he could wait for the helicopter to land; he needed to see her, to make sure she was still breathing. Tears filled his eyes and he blinked them back. He’d never cried in front of Stu before and hoped he could keep it together. He hadn’t even cried at Laura’s funeral and she was one of his own, one of his team of detectives who had been murdered. Will knew that he would forever blame himself for her death; if she hadn’t being trying to make him jealous by leaving the pub with a complete stranger she’d probably still be here today. He had kept it together in the church when everyone around him had been sniffling into tissues but he didn’t know how long he could keep the tear that were threatening now at bay.
As he paced up and down on the road, an ambulance pulled up, ready to transfer Annie from the helicopter to Accident and Emergency. God, she would hate this fuss and he hoped she was conscious and telling them exactly how much she hated the fuss. She would be upset about her car, which would be a write-off if the fire service had to cut her free from it, but he’d buy her a brand new one with a reinforced steel roof—hell, he’d buy her an armoured tank as long as she would be able to drive one.
The paramedics climbed out of the ambulance and began opening the doors and lowering the ramp. They nodded at Will and he nodded back, recognising the woman who had been to a couple of jobs he’d dealt with. She came over to talk to him while her colleague began talking on the radio to the control room. He nodded at her and she touched Will’s arm.
‘The helicopter will be here any minute. Don’t worry; she’s in safe hands, the air ambulance doctors are miracle workers. We’ve had an update to say that the casualty is unconscious, she has a head injury, fractured rib and a suspected punctured lung so she’ll be going straight to surgery.’
‘Thank you, I can’t believe it. I really hope so.’
The loud thwack of the helicopter’s rotor blades carried on the wind and Will looked up to the sky to see the distinctive green and yellow helicopter fly into sight. His heart was racing so much he was scared he was going to have a heart attack and drop dead before he got a chance to see her. A porter had come out and shut the big yellow metal barriers to stop motorists driving through. Quite a crowd had gathered on the grass and in the car park to watch and he wanted to shout at them all to ‘bugger off’ but he knew it was wrong; they were only doing what he himself would probably do if it wasn’t the woman he loved more than life itself inside, fighting for her life.
***
Henry sat in his room, listening to his music and waiting for the nurse to bring his medication that he didn’t actually need and that he would not be swallowing. He’d got quite good at pretending to take his tablets like a good boy. They were a mixture of anti-depressants and God knows whatever else they thought was needed to keep him calm and his serial killer mode turned off. The thing was, although he hadn’t really wanted it to turn on in the first place and at the beginning he had been sickened by his crimes, the more he killed, the more the despair had turned to pleasure and sheer enjoyment. He knew that he could control the urges when he needed to or until the time was right. He also knew that the time to try and escape was getting near; he could not spend the rest of his life cooped up in the hospital. He needed to be free, to kill again. This time he had very specific victims in mind—and anyone who happened to get in his way. He would rather die trying to kill Police Officer Annie Graham and Detective Sergeant Will Ashworth than sit here, day in day out, living out the fantasy he had created.
Megan unlocked his door and brought his medication in. She grinned at him. ‘Good morning, Henry, how are you today?’
‘I’m fine, thank you. How about yourself?’
‘Oh, you know how it is: same shit, different day. Whoops, sorry. I forget you’re a patient and we’re not supposed to swear in front of you. Still, you don’t mind, do you? I’m a good girl the rest of the time.’
She winked at him and he nodded in agreement.
‘Megan, you are like a breath of fresh air to me. So you can say what you like—you’re the only nurse in here who actually talks to me like I’m a normal person.’
She laughed and tucked a strand of fuchsia-coloured hair behind her ear. ‘Yes, well, I don’t care what you did outside of these walls, as long as you’re nice to me then I’m nice back and you, Henry, are always nice. You don’t try and stare down my top when I bend over, you don’t try and grope my bottom and you definitely don’t do some things the other patients do, or at least not in public anyway.’
‘I’m afraid some men have no manners, especially around a pretty young thing like you. They have no self-respect so they don’t give any to others. So have you any news to tell me today? How’s that creep of a boyfriend of yours; have you dumped him yet?’
She handed him a small plastic cup with his assorted tablets in and a plastic cup filled with water.
‘Not yet; I think I will tonight, though.’
She sat on the end of his bed, waiting for him to take his tablets, but she didn’t actually watch him because she started to pick at one of her fingernails, which had the remains of some silver glittery nail varnish on it. Henry went through the motions and slipped the tablets into his hand and down the side
of his chair.
‘Tut, tut, Megan. You’d better hope Nurse Wood doesn’t catch you with nail varnish on. You know what a stickler for the rules she is; she’ll have you suspended and then what would I do?’
‘You’d die of boredom, Henry, that’s what. It’s okay, the old bat is off today, anyway. She rang in sick so let’s hope she’s off for at least a week and give us both a break.’ Megan winked at him. ‘Anyway, she loves having me to moan at; it keeps her off everyone else’s backs. So they owe me because I’m doing them a public service, so to speak. Henry, can I ask you something?’
Henry smiled at her; he had wondered how long it would be before she plucked up the courage.
‘I mean you don’t have to answer and I’m just being nosy so you can tell me to get lost…but I can’t stop thinking about it.’
He sat up straight in his chair, keeping his hands tucked down the sides. He rarely got the chance to talk about how good he was at killing.
‘What is it, Megan? What can you not stop thinking about?’
She paused, as if unsure whether to continue or not, but then she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.
‘Did you really kill those people? I just find it so hard to believe. You’re always so nice and polite. You don’t act like a freak like most of the others on this ward and I just can’t imagine that you would.’
He looked at her then slowly nodded. ‘Yes, I did, Megan, and I’m not proud of myself. I don’t know what came over me but I’m ever so sorry about it. I really wanted to apologise to the policewoman that I kidnapped and her friend who rescued her. I owe her so much because she was the one who stopped me and made me realise exactly what I was doing. They wouldn’t let me speak to her after it was all over. I couldn’t speak at first because of the burns. They hurt so much I thought I was dying. In fact I wish that I had because I can never make it up to the families of those girls or the policewoman. I would like the chance to say sorry to her; I hope one day I will get it.’