STALKER ON THE FENS a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Joy Ellis

Joseph scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘But meanwhile, I’ve been thinking about Helen’s snooper. I wonder if this person who is watching her has got anything to do with that article in the local paper a couple of weeks back.’

  Nikki frowned, then slapped her hand against her head. ‘Of course! The one on survivors! Yes! Let’s suppose for a moment that Helen is right about a man being with her, and that the man really did confess to killing someone. That article may have alerted him to the fact that she hadn’t die as he’d supposed, that she’d survived, and might be able to identify him in some way.’

  ‘Phew!’ Joseph looked concerned. ‘That’s one nasty supposition. I was only thinking along the lines of a stalker, or someone who idolised her.’

  ‘Maybe, but I really don’t like the timing, do you? Someone starts watching her almost immediately after a paper prints a story about her. I wonder why Helen never thought about that.’

  ‘Got enough on her plate by the sound of it, and sometimes they do the research months before it comes out. Perhaps she just forgot.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’d have thought she would have been inundated with mail afterwards. It was a pretty emotive article, as I remember. People are often moved to write to the survivors, you know, send their respects, share their own stories. Whatever, ring the paper and get hold of a copy of that feature. I want to refresh myself as to what exactly was said about Helen. Perhaps I should mention it to her.’

  Joseph looked doubtful. ‘And frighten the life out of her? You would be confirming her worst fears, and what if it’s all baloney anyway?’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Why don’t we take her client base to bits? You could well be right about someone having a serious crush on her.’

  ‘Okay.’ She checked her watch. ‘It’s late. You better get on home now, but first thing tomorrow you start hunting male bunny boilers.’ She yawned. ‘And before I finish, I’d better double-check that everything is in place for that squad car on Westland Waterway tonight.’

  * * *

  Andrew sounded odd when he rang her.

  ‘Any more calls, babe?’

  ‘I put the house phone directly onto answerphone, and the only calls have been clients wanting to know about the opening date for the clinic.’ She knew she sounded irritable, but it was almost eight o‘clock. ‘Are you on your way home yet?’

  ‘Not quite, that’s why I’m ringing now. This problem with the Swiss client is a monster. I will be home, Helen,’ he added hurriedly. ‘And it’ll be before ten thirty, but the thing is . . .’

  Helen knew this particular intonation, and felt a shiver of anxiety pass swiftly across her shoulder blades.

  ‘. . . If I can’t sort it out, I may have to fly to Zurich and tackle it on site.’

  ‘Andrew! No! Please, just this once couldn’t you get someone else to do it, and put me before your job?’

  ‘Helen, I would if I could. Believe me, no one wants this problem to disappear more than I do, but I’m afraid the buck stops with me on this one. Teresa and I designed the system in question, and we’re the only ones who can sort it.’

  Helen went quiet. Their long relationship had always been something of a rollercoaster. Neither was afraid to say what they meant, or to throw the crockery around if it came to it. But this time she had no wish to scream at him, or slam down the phone. Her normal explosion of emotion never arrived. Instead she was swamped by a feeling of uselessness, which gave way to a dull acquiescence. Andrew was the only person in her life who could make her white-hot angry. He was the only one she ever fought with. Sometimes she wondered how a couple who cared so deeply could fight so, then she remembered that he was also the only one who could light a fire of passion in her heart. She bit her lip, but still said nothing. When it came down to his work, she would never win, even when some nameless man was waiting in the shadows to make her his next victim.

  ‘Helen? Are you still there?’ He sounded slightly surprised, as if he too had expected the usual tirade.

  Her voice sounded unrecognisably cool and she said, ‘Just get home, Andrew.’ She slowly lowered the receiver and placed it carefully on its rest, before bursting into tears.

  * * *

  Helen stood at her lounge window and saw the police car parked a few doors away. She knew that they would remain there, unless an emergency called them away. Like the new locks, it should have been a relief, but without Andrew, she felt very alone and vulnerable. The police would be watching the river walk and the front of the house, but what about the back garden, and the wilderness beyond the wall? The two officers that had searched the area earlier had found nothing of interest, certainly nothing to indicate that the garden was being used as a nocturnal lookout point for spying on her, but that meant nothing. She had seen someone there, no doubt about that, and he could come back.

  She wandered into the kitchen and listlessly opened the fridge. After staring into it for a few moments, she closed it again. With every minute that passed, she felt less like eating. Perhaps she should go and stay with Nikki. That would give Andrew something to think about.

  As it got later, she toyed with the idea of inviting the two police officers inside. It would be bitterly cold in the car, here they would at least be comfortable. Come on, who was she kidding? Their wellbeing had nothing to do with why she wanted them there with her. She was scared. Scared of what was outside watching her, and even more scared of what was inside, in her head. She knew that the memories had not finished with her. This could be the tip of the iceberg, and she really did not want to know any more.

  She walked back into the lounge and flopped into the reclining chair that faced out towards the river. It was the not knowing that scared her most. She took a deep breath. When Andrew, if Andrew, came home tonight, she would talk to him about an idea that she’d had. The idea of visiting a hypnotherapist, and being regressed back to the accident, to find out what had really happened in that cellar. To find the truth. It was a slightly frightening concept, but nothing could be worse than what she was going through right now.

  For the third time since darkness had fallen, she got up and walked around the apartment checking the locks and the windows, but as she gripped the handle of the conservatory door, she saw something outside on the concrete paving. It was quite tiny, but big enough to glint brightly in the security lights. Her hand moved instinctively to her ears and she gently felt the lobes. One of the diamond stud earrings that Andrew had given her after the accident was missing.

  For a moment she hesitated. The thought of leaving the security of the house terrified her. Her throat constricted and she felt a tremor of fear run through her as she contemplated venturing outside into the night.

  This was stupid! She was not going to give into it. With grim determination, she unlocked the door, and hurried out onto the patio.

  The cold hit her like a physical blow, and as she bent forward to pick up the earring, she was thrown back through time, and into that awful cellar.

  ‘Is someone there?’

  There was a rushing sound in her ears and blackness closed in around her.

  * * *

  When Helen came to, she was vaguely aware of being carried, but the all-consuming feeling was of bitter, bone-numbing cold. A voice that she recognised was calling to her, his tone full of fear and compassion.

  ‘Helen, darling! It’s me. It’s Andrew. What on earth . . . ?’ With difficulty, he carried her into the house and still holding her, kicked the door shut with one foot, then took her upstairs to the warmth of the lounge. She felt herself being lowered very gently onto the couch. ‘Don’t move. I’ll get the duvet. My poor darling, you’re absolutely frozen!’

  A moment later he was wrapping her in the thick, soft cover and lying beside her, offering his own body warmth for heat and reassurance.

  After a while the shivering began to ease and she managed to sit up. ‘Andrew, it was another flashback. I . . .’ Before she could finish, she heard the doorbell ring. ‘Who . . . ?’

>   ‘Damn! I think it’s the police. There was some sort of fracas going on when I drew up.’ With an exasperated sigh, he placed a finger on her lips, ‘You stay here. I’ll go and see what’s happening.’

  As Andrew went into the hall, Helen groggily stood up and followed him. She needed to know if they had actually found her stalker.

  ‘Mr Gregory?’

  She stared over his shoulder. The policeman looked impossibly young, with a haircut just a step away from baldness. ‘We’ve picked up a man, over there.’ He indicated towards the river. ‘He appeared to be watching the house and he fits the description of someone that your neighbour saw hanging around here a few days ago. He’s not being exactly cooperative so we may sling him in the digger for an hour or two to cool off, then we’ll have a little chat with him.’ He replaced the cap that had been neatly tucked under his arm as he spoke. ‘We just thought you’d both like to know.’

  Helen tensed. ‘I need to see him. I have to talk to him!’

  Andrew reached out for her. ‘Hey, you’re going nowhere until you’ve rested for a while.’

  The young constable looked at them suspiciously. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Andrew answered. ‘Helen fainted earlier. She really needs to lie down.’

  Close to anger, Helen pushed away from him and stared at the policeman. ‘Have you really caught him? Can I see him, please? I really do have to talk to him. It’s vital that I hear his voice!’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Brook, that’s not quite how it works. And, as Mr Gregory said, you don’t look too well. Why don’t you just leave him with us and go inside and get some sleep. He won’t be bothering you any more tonight.’

  Before she could reply, there was a cry and the sound of a scuffle coming from the direction of the police car. ‘Harry! Get back here and help me with this little scrote, will you?’

  As the young man turned on his heels and ran towards his partner, Helen saw her chance and slipped past Andrew. Before he could grab her, she was running down the path and into the street.

  ‘Get your fucking hands off me, pig! I know my rights! You can’t touch me! I ain’t doing nothing wrong! I’ll have you for assault, you fucking bastard!’ The boy was writhing on the floor and calling the two officers everything he could summon up from his limited vocabulary.

  Helen stopped in her tracks and stared at the foul-mouthed teenager. Andrew appeared behind her, and she felt his arm around her shoulders.

  Disappointment coursed through her. ‘It’s not him,’ she whispered. ‘It’s the wrong voice. He’s not the one.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Blimey, ma’am! You’re in early.’ The desk sergeant looked up from his screen.

  Nikki nodded ruefully. ‘Anything interesting happen last night, Sarge?’

  ‘Actually, yes. A couple of my lads pulled in your peeping Tom from Westland Waterway.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked at him intently. ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing, Inspector. Just some kid trying to get his leg over with a bit of posh totty from one of those big houses. The girl’s parents had barred her from seeing him, so he waited over by the river walk or in the back garden for the girl to signal to him. Apparently she’d sneak off out to the summerhouse, then he’d creep in and they’d—’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant, I don’t think I need to know any more. Main thing is, it has absolutely nothing to do with Helen Brook?’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever. Which is good news, isn’t it?’

  Nikki took a long, deep breath. ‘I’m not sure. Thank you anyway. I appreciate you being there. I owe you one.’

  ‘No trouble, DI Galena. Any time.’ Before returning to his computer he raised a hand in acknowledgement to the figure walking in through the front door. ‘Morning, Joseph. I had no idea CID had alarm clocks that even worked before eight o’clock.’

  ‘Good morning, and up yours, Jonesy.’ Joseph was carrying two coffees in polystyrene cups. ‘Called in to the Café des Amis on the way in. I had hoped coffee and croissants would give us a good start to the day, but seeing your expression, perhaps I should go back for a large Scotch.’

  She pushed open her office door and held it back for Joseph. ‘They caught the trespasser, but it’s not what I thought it would be.’ She told him what had happened the night before. ‘Of course I’m glad she wasn’t being watched, but that leaves everything else looking a bit iffy, doesn’t it? Perhaps I’ve been too eager to believe her, maybe she is suffering from some sort of post-traumatic episode.’

  Joseph shrugged. ‘I suppose if there is no stalker, it kind of puts a different slant on things, but even so, she was genuinely scared. What we witnessed the other night was no show.’

  ‘I do not doubt that, Joseph, but maybe we need to rethink this a bit.’ She flipped off the lid of her coffee and sipped it thoughtfully. ‘When I spoke to her she told me she had seen this man in other places, like the Willows and the supermarket. Well, that would have nothing to do with this randy little git and his secret bunk up in the summerhouse, would it?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Joseph offered her a croissant. ‘Do you think there could be two different men lurking out there on the riverbank?’

  ‘It’s possible.’ Before she could say more, there was a knock on her door and DI Gill Mercer walked in.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I’ve got a problem.’

  ‘You too! Grab a perch and reveal all.’

  Joseph pulled out another chair and the detective flopped down into it.

  Gill Mercer was a petite woman with dark shoulder-length hair and a ready smile, but when it came to tackling crime, she was relentless. She gave Nikki an apologetic smile. ‘How are you getting on with my cast-off? I’m really sorry about that. It certainly wasn’t my idea that you get lumbered, but top brass has no intention of doing what I consider to be the right thing with that one.’

  ‘Tied hands, or so I’m told.’

  ‘Yeah, well, there should come a time when enough is enough. He’s not cut out for this job.’ She shook her head. ‘Actually I’m not sure what he is cut out for.’

  ‘He’s intelligent, no doubt about that, but he has a problem all right.’

  ‘Mmm, weighed down by a chip on his shoulder the size of Flamborough Head.’ She cast a glance up at the clock. ‘Sorry, this is not what I wanted to ask you about. The thing is, I’m up to my neck with work right now, and the super said I might be able to offload one of my investigations on to you?’

  ‘Sure, we can run another case in tandem. Anything in particular?’ Nikki silently hoped it wouldn’t be too complex and take her away from Helen. Or Stephen Cox.

  ‘It’s that body that was found in the Westland River.’ Gill shook her head. ‘There’s something—’

  ‘Please don’t say fishy,’ interjected Joseph.

  Gill gave a short laugh. ‘Odd was my word of choice. It’s not quite as straightforward as I believed. Could you take it over?’

  Nikki nodded. ‘No problem. Pass over everything you have so far and we’ll deal with it.’ She paused and sipped her coffee, then added, ‘Er, exactly what did you mean by odd?’

  Gill puffed out her cheeks and drew in a long breath. ‘Maybe it’s nothing, but when we went to break the news to the deceased’s wife, she was not there. Neither were any of the family, and they haven’t been back since. A neighbour seemed to think that they all went off together in a car in the dead of night, but he reckoned the husband was with them.’ She gave Nikki a puzzled look. ‘We haven’t had time to delve deeper and the forensics are not back yet, but the timing of their hurried departure doesn’t seem to fit with how long the body may have been in the water.’

  ‘As you say, that’s odd.’

  Gill stood up. ‘And it’s all yours. Thanks. I will return the favour, I promise.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like Eric Barnes back, would you?’

  ‘Ah, now there I draw the line, and it’s clearly time to disappear. Au revoir, mes amis!’

/>   Joseph raised a hand to the retreating figure, then turned to Nikki, ‘Well, that doesn’t sound too taxing. Shall I get Dave to start the ball rolling?’

  Nikki thought. ‘I’m going to suggest that you do the initial organising, and that you use Dave and Cat on the body in the river. I’ll take Eric Barnes with me on Helen’s problem.’

  ‘Is that wise, ma’am? He’s not exactly tactful at the best of times, and even we don’t really know what we are dealing with.’

  ‘Apparently it’s down to me to kick him into shape, so I can hardly farm him out to someone else, can I? And anyway, I promised Cat I’d do my best to keep them apart. She’s making an effort, I can see that. So if they are on different cases, I’ll be doing my bit for entente cordiale. Not that I’m looking forward to taking him to see Helen. We’ll just have to pray that he’s enough of a professional to keep his opinions to himself.’

  Joseph pulled a face. ‘Good luck with that one, ma’am. I’ll keep you updated on what we find out with DI Mercer’s case.’

  As the door closed, her phone rang.

  ‘Nikki?’

  ‘Hi there, Helen, how are you doing? Sleep better, knowing that your peeping Tom has had his collar felt?’

  ‘Hardly.’ Nikki could hardly hear her. Helen sounded like someone fighting a migraine and barely coping with the sound of their own voice. ‘Andrew’s gone to Switzerland. He left early this morning. And as soon as he’d gone, I had another flashback.’

  Nikki’s heart sank. Her friend should be talking to a doctor, not a detective.

  But Helen was still talking. ‘I’ve remembered more, Nikki, a lot more. I’ve even remembered his name.’

  ‘His name? Are you sure?’

  ‘Paul. His name was Paul, and the woman he killed? She was his wife.’ Helen made a small choking sound. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Nikki, but I really need to see you.’

  Nikki thought quickly. Andrew was a selfish bastard to leave her like this. ‘Look, I have to take the morning meeting here, but as soon as that is over, I’ll come straight to you.’

  ‘Can I come to the station? Frankly I’m desperate to get out of this place for an hour or so. And I’m sure you are busy, so maybe it would help you too?’