Love You to Death: An Absolutely Gripping Thriller with a Killer Twist

by Caroline Mitchell

  Lucy looked around, realising she had lost them. It didn’t matter. She knew where they lived, their routes, where she went to school and where Anita spent her time. Flowers. She could buy some flowers and make the place look pretty. There were all sorts of things she could get to make it nice. She could even get a commode instead of a chair. One of those seats with a built-in potty. After all, Anita was a lady; she would not soil herself like the others. Lucy dismissed the thought. It was too messy. Besides, Anita was going to pass all the tests. And then she would be free.

  A small doubtful voice spoke from inside. Just how do you think you’re going to get away with that? Everyone is looking for you. Lucy smiled. She would get away with it because she was not Lucy in the real world. The person she was presenting now, as she walked down the aisle of the supermarket, was someone else entirely. Having a loving mother was her destiny, her happy ending. And every story deserved a happy ever after.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Nathan sighed as he took a seat across from the young woman who had introduced herself simply as ‘Cathy’. Her make-up was gaudy, her eyes mistrustful, and her clothes smelt like she had lived in them for a month. He really didn’t have time for this today. The clubs were Lenny’s responsibility, and he had better things to do than interview some street rat looking for a job.

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her dark kohl-lined eyes peeping out from under her blunt fringe. ‘I heard you’re taking on girls. I need a job.’

  Nathan shook his head. He was getting too old for this shit. ‘I’m not running a crèche here, love. What age are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?’

  She glared at him, eyes alight with a fire of indignation. ‘I’m twenty.’ Producing a bent-up passport, she slid it across the table. A sad, pale-faced girl stared out from the passport photo. Nathan examined the paperwork. He could spot a fake a mile off, mainly because they used to make good money from producing them. This was the real thing.

  She reached out to snatch it back, and Nathan clamped down her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her jacket to examine her skin for puncture marks. Satisfied she was clean, he released his grip.

  ‘Did he tell you what the job entails?’

  ‘I’m not a kid. I’ve been living on the streets long enough to know how things work around here. Is there a job going or not?’

  ‘Take your top off.’

  Cathy’s eyes darted left and right as she stood. ‘Can’t we go somewhere a bit more… private?’

  Nathan screwed his face in disgust. ‘Jesus, I’m not interested in that; I’m checking you for wires.’ Like anyone who attended the club out of hours she had been searched on the way in. But there was something about the lack of fear behind her eyes that made Nathan uncomfortable. He had seen that defiance before, and it usually brought him nothing but trouble.

  ‘Oh. It’s just that I heard Lenny likes to… ’ she said, pulling off her sweatshirt. She stood before him: her skinny frame encompassed in a black bra and jeans.

  ‘Well, I’m not Lenny.’ Nathan signalled at her to turn around. She was too young to carry the scars and bruises that mapped her body, and he dropped his gaze.

  ‘Do you want me to take the rest of my clothes off?’ Cathy said, reaching around to remove her bra.

  ‘Get dressed,’ Nathan said, in a voice that was not to be disobeyed.

  Cathy sniffed in disgust as she pushed her head through her jumper. ‘I fucking hate the cops; all they ever give me is grief.’

  She was nothing more than a kid, and Nathan shuddered to think what Lenny would be doing with her now had he been the one interviewing. Nathan had moved the escorting service online, closing down the shoddy massage parlours and backstreet knocking stops. But he still had a long way to go in order to persuade Lenny to shut down that leg of the business completely. His brother enjoyed having girls on tap. ‘You don’t want to work for us,’ Nathan said. ‘Why don’t you go home to your family?’

  ‘My parents don’t care about me,’ Cathy said, sullenly. ‘I’ll do whatever you want. Please. I don’t have nowhere to live. I’ve been sleeping under the bridge, but there’s some weirdos hanging around and I don’t feel safe there anymore.’

  ‘There’s weirdos everywhere,’ Nathan said, drumming his fingers against the table. ‘We just deal with rich ones.’ Nathan rubbed his stubbled chin. Getting her into escorting would be like feeding her to the sharks. Sure the clientele had improved, but he could not assure her safety, and despite her bolshy attitude he could not shake off the feeling he was taking advantage of a vulnerable young girl.

  ‘I’m not asking for a hand-out; I’m asking for a job. I’ve heard your girls make good money as escorts.’

  ‘Sorry, babe, but it’s not for you. You’re too young for a start and way too skinny. Here,’ he said, reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling a twenty-pound note. ‘Go and sort yourself out with a hot meal. I can’t help you.’

  Cathy pushed the money away. ‘Please, Mr Crosby. I just need somewhere I can wash and lay my head at night. I’m a good worker. I’ll do as many hours as you want.’

  Nathan frowned. She was not going to give up. He imagined her lying in the doorway of his club, making him look bad. It was only a matter of time before some scumbag took advantage of her. Someone like Frenchie, who fed his girls on a diet of smack and greasy STD-ridden punters.

  ‘Oi, Jules,’ Nathan waved at one of the barmaids, a mixed-race girl with an East London accent. Dressed in the uniform of black shirt and trousers, she sauntered over, frowning, as she clapped eyes on Cathy.

  ‘Not you again. I told you to bugger off,’ she said, her jaw mechanically working on a wad of chewing gum. ‘Honestly, Mr Crosby, she’s been bugging me all week. I’ve told her you don’t take on street kids, but she wouldn’t leave me alone.’

  Nathan did not take kindly to being told what he did or did not do. ‘You’re short at the bar, aren’t you?’ he said, shoving the twenty pound note into Jules’s hand, pulling another tenner from his pocket and laying it on top. ‘Show her upstairs so she can have a wash, and buy her a change of clothes. She can have a trial behind the bar tonight; we’ll see how she goes.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Cathy said, breaking into a smile.

  Nathan grabbed Cathy’s wrist. ‘Don’t you go stealing from me, mind. People that steal from me soon live to regret it.’

  * * *

  Nathan pulled the terse look he always did when Ruby’s name flashed up on the screen. He had just got rid of one ball of grief and now, here she was, a reminder of a past he was trying hard to forget. ‘Yes?’ he said, his forehead creasing in a frown.

  ‘Oh, nice. Hello to you too,’ she said, the wind muffling her voice.

  Was she on her way home from work? Out on a job? Was she safe? Nathan’s jaw tightened as he tried to quell his concern. ‘What do you want, Ruby?’

  ‘I’ve something to ask you. Are you on your own?’

  ‘Yes. Go on,’ he said, trying not to be lured in by the sound of her voice. He thought of the scent of her skin, her lips, her teeth, her tongue.

  ‘We’re investigating a series of murders: women who have been gagged, bound and their bodies staged in expensive properties for the police to find. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about them would you?’

  ‘You’ve come to the wrong place if you’re expecting me to help the police with their enquiries,’ Nathan said drily. He did know about it. The last two bodies had turned up in properties which were on his books.

  Despite his frostiness, Ruby breathed a good-natured laugh. ‘Okay, okay you can’t blame a girl for trying. We’re on the lookout for a young woman, early twenties. White girl, not very tall, slim, either black or blonde hair, goes by the name of Lucy. She was in the homeless shelter but she’s moved on. Apparently she’s looking for work. If you see anyone suspicious in the area, can you let me know?’

  ‘As I said… I’m no grass.’

  ‘She could be a murderer.’


  ‘I don’t care if she’s Myra fucking Hindley. I’ve told you, I—’

  ‘Don’t help police. Yeah. Innocent women have been killed, and it’s not ending there. But don’t you worry your head. You go back to whatever important work you’re doing. I’m sure it’s a wonderful contribution to society.’

  Nathan stared in disbelief as the line went dead. She hung up on him. She actually hung up on him. Of all the bloody…

  ‘She was in the homeless shelter, but she’s moved on. Apparently she’s looking for work… ’ Ruby’s description of her suspect echoed in his brain. It was a description that could fit anyone, yet… ‘Lucy’. A name which invoked pain, past memories. He had seen Cathy’s passport. It couldn’t be her. It wasn’t possible. He could ring Ruby now, ask her to come around unofficially to speak to the girl. But the thought was fleeting. Police were not welcome in his establishments, and if there was a problem to sort out he would see to it himself.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ DCI Worrow said, as Ruby pulled up a chair. ‘I understand that you’re very busy.’

  Ruby crossed then uncrossed her legs, trying to contain her rising jitters as she wondered why Worrow had called her at such a late hour. It was nine p.m. and they were the only people on the floor of the so-called ivory towers. Unlike the minions in serious crime who were still working on the floor below, the rest of her superior officers had all gone home.

  Worrow interlocked her fingers and rested them on the desk. Even at this late hour she was perfectly groomed; her black bobbed hair styled to perfection. Ruby patted her dishevelled bun to find the pen she had embedded in it earlier. Too late to worry about it now, she thought, as DCI Worrow spoke.

  ‘I came in to see you this afternoon and I was disappointed to see that both yours and DI Downes’s office doors were closed. This goes against my imposed open door policy, and I believe it could be contributing towards the low morale of your team.’

  The woman spoke in such an officious tone it was as if she were reading the words. But that was her nature as far as Ruby could see: stilted, unnatural. Ruby wanted to say that the only time her team suffered from low morale was when Worrow came to visit. She refrained from rolling her eyes, as such behaviour would be unbecoming of a police sergeant. Her superior’s attitude got on her nerves. Coming out with this crap when they were juggling with a serial killer? Fresh from a university business degree, Worrow was always coming up with ideas, strategies and discussions. While Ruby admired her, getting fast-tracked for promotion at such a young age, flying through the ranks had left Worrow with little time to experience life on the streets. It was hardly any wonder that officers could not identify with her. With a privileged upbringing, and a swish Hampstead pad, she was totally out of place in Ruby’s world. And the thing was, she was never going to change. Shoreditch was a temporary stay for Worrow: a test of her resilience. But unlike Downes, Ruby did not want to set her up to fail. Instead of arguing, Ruby decided to give her a break and listen to what she had to say.

  Ruby nodded as DCI Worrow spoke about open doors, social media and weekly team building meetings. She tried to look interested as she told her about the new spreadsheet she was introducing to the team to track their individual targets and detection rates.

  ‘We’re nearly finished,’ she said, as Ruby’s head snapped up from checking her watch. ‘There’s one more thing I need to speak to you about.’

  Ruby tried to look interested. But it was past nine o’clock; she had not eaten since twelve and there was still lots to do.

  ‘I’ve had an informal complaint from a member of your team. They’ve expressed some concerns with regards your style of management.’

  ‘Style of management? Are you serious?’ Ruby blurted in disbelief. As Worrow’s eyebrows shot up, Ruby regained her composure. ‘So you’re saying someone from my team has complained about me.’

  Worrow drew in a terse breath. ‘It’s not an official complaint, just an expression of concern.’

  Ruby could feel her blood pressure rising. Why didn’t Worrow just get to the point? ‘Ma’am, with all due respect, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Concern for what?’

  ‘They wouldn’t provide any details, only to say they had concerns with regards your background and the company you keep. They also had misgivings with regards your reluctance to adhere to procedure. While no formal complaint has been made, these are things I will be keeping a very close eye on for the welfare of my team.’

  Welfare of her team? Since when had she done anything to contribute? The heat of her temper rose within and she fought back the urge to slap the smug smile from Worrow’s face. How dare she, Ruby thought, lecturing her about the welfare of her team? To Worrow, they were just numbers to input on a spreadsheet: how many arrests; how many successful charges; making up pretty little pie charts to impress the bosses. She did not know that Ash’s wife suffered from morbid depression and his mum had moved in to help with the kids. She wasn’t aware that Luddy was struggling with his sergeant’s exams because he was dyslexic and too embarrassed to admit it. And she sure didn’t know that Eve was struggling to get past her insecurities. Worrow had not earned the right to call them her team when all she had ever paid them was lip service. ‘I’m still not clear what the complaint is about. Can you at least elaborate?’

  ‘A member of your team has issues with your reluctance about sticking to police policy.’

  ‘And the company I keep?’ Ruby asked, her heart picking up a beat. Worrow was new to her post and trying to make a name for herself. If she knew of her acquaintance with the Crosby family, it could spell serious trouble for Ruby’s career.

  ‘They wouldn’t elaborate other than to say it was not befitting of a police sergeant, particularly a member of the serious crime team.’

  ‘But I was double vetted prior to taking the post.’

  ‘Something I’m well aware of, and there’s nothing to say these claims are substantiated.’ Worrow sighed and lowering her voice she leaned across the table. ‘Ruby, I know you think I’m some sort of automaton, that I’m just here to step over people on my way to promotion.’ Ruby opened her mouth to respond, and Worrow raised her hand. ‘Let me finish. Believe it or not I’m on your side. I appreciate how tough it is working in a male-dominated world, and I just wanted to say, you need to watch your back – I’d hate to lose you.’ Worrow’s gaze shifted towards the door as if she expected the professional standards department to jump out at any minute. Straightening her posture, her cool veneer regained a foothold.

  ‘What do you suggest I do?’ The heat of Ruby’s anger visibly evaporated as the fear of losing her job took hold. ‘This job is my life. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I can’t lose it all now.’

  ‘I appreciate that, and nobody is questioning your dedication to the team. But you’ve got to be seen to be doing the right thing. You mix with unsavoury characters as part of your role and as long as you have a legitimate reason for doing so, then you’ve nothing to worry about.’

  Ruby fell silent as she tried to figure out how much trouble she was in. Was Worrow holding back? Did she know more?

  Worrow interlaced her fingers. ‘I may have come down a bit hard. There’s nothing official in motion and nobody’s out to get you. I just wanted to make you aware so we can nip it in the bud.’

  ‘I’m just trying to think of what I’ve done to warrant a complaint. I guess I’ll have to document who I speak to in the future, in case I get pulled up for it.’

  ‘That would be wise, even if it’s a quick update in your pocket notebook. Just keep yourself covered, that’s all I’m saying. This isn’t like any other job. You don’t get to leave it at home at the end of the day.’

  Ruby smiled. ‘You’re not going to tell me to get a job in B&Q now, are you?’

  Worrow could not help but smile in return. ‘No, I think we’ll keep you where you are. Besides, I’ve heard you’re terrible at DIY.’ She unclasped
her hands and pushed back her chair. ‘Yes, well… I believe this has been quite a productive meeting. Let’s hear no more about it.’

  Ruby nodded. Worrow had made it clear. The unofficial complaint was going away. She did not feel guilty, because her loyalty to her team should never have been called into question. But as Ruby left Worrow’s office she wondered if she knew her boss at all. There was a lot more to Worrow than the unyielding senior officer she presented to the team. She had caught a spark of humanity behind those cool blue eyes, and given her recent phone call she was not as prim and proper as she pretended to be.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ‘Glad you could make it,’ Ruby said, as Eve rested her bag on the shiny copper-topped bar. ‘How are you feeling now, any better?’

  ‘Yes, much,’ Eve shouted over the din of the crowd. After a shitty day’s work, Ruby had suggested they attend The Blind Pig, in Soho, and the team seemed happy to follow suit. Every month she held a ‘mystery pub’ works night out. Her team were willing to travel the extra miles to see what sort of weird and wonderful place she would come up with. Even Eve had come from home, catching the Tube to join in on the fun. A work night out was much needed, and it was pay day after all. Cocktails were an expensive luxury that Ruby could barely afford, but every month the first round was on her.