by Helen Phifer
‘He’s going to pop his clogs any minute.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I just do. You wait and see.’
Sometimes he hated how his brother was such a know-it-all. It made him feel stupid and like a big baby. He got himself a packet of crisps out of the cupboard and they both sat on the high stools near the breakfast bar waiting for their dad to come back in. After what seemed like forever he finally did; his eyes were red and he’d been crying. Heath had never seen his dad cry. He walked over and hugged them close to him.
‘Your granddad’s gone to heaven now; you can both go in and say goodbye.’
This time it was Heath who wanted to go in first – he desperately wanted to see what you looked like when you were dead – and it was his brother who lingered behind. He jumped off his stool and went to the room where the door was ajar. The first thing he noticed was how peaceful it was now that horrible sound his granddad had been making had stopped. He stepped inside. The sheets were no longer moving and he walked closer to look at the man on the bed. The second thing he noticed was how different he looked; his skin looked yellow but it was no longer scrunched up and wrinkled in pain. It was smooth, his mouth was open and his false teeth had slipped down. He’d expected his eyes to be closed but they were open slightly, staring straight ahead. Heath marvelled at how wonderful his granddad looked now he was dead – how much younger. It was amazing. Did everyone who died look like this? His foot kicked something soft and he looked down to see one of the pillows from the bed there. It puzzled him how it had got there; it wasn’t there before when they’d been in the room and his granddad hadn’t moved at all. His dad must have taken it from under the old man’s head but he didn’t understand why. He picked it up and felt a warm patch in the middle; placing it on the chair next to the bed he thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until some years later when he replayed that last scene in his head that he realised that the pillow was warm in the middle because that was where his granddad’s last breaths had gone. He had known all along that the grief his dad had shown had been filled with guilt – but he hadn’t known why until his dad’s own dying confession had confirmed the sneaking suspicion he’d always held. His dad had been the one to end his granddad’s life that morning all those years ago; he could have gone to prison but he’d decided it was worth the risk. The only regret that Heath had was that he’d had no means to photograph how wonderful his granddad looked, more wonderful than he ever did when he was alive. It was as if his true inner beauty had been revealed and it was something Heath never forgot; in fact he thought about it an awful lot. When most kids his age had been playing with action men or cap guns, he had spent all his time locked in his bedroom wondering how he could see more dead people.
There was a certain beauty in death which could not be achieved at any cost in life, even with the amount of plastic surgeons and cosmetic surgery available. When he was ten years old he knew that he wanted to be a photographer but he did have a backup plan. He would probably one day become a funeral director if his photography didn’t take off but his one passion in life was photography. What he really wanted to do was photograph the dead. He didn’t really want to have to deal with the grieving families; he just wanted to photograph their loved ones like his great, great grandfather had back in the Victorian days. It had been quite normal back then, but if you told anyone now that you liked photographing the dead they’d lock you up and throw away the key. There were some things you didn’t admit to and getting your rocks off over corpses was almost certainly one. He spent hours locked in his room studying the photos in the album they’d found when clearing their granddad’s house out. Luckily for him, he’d been on his own in the bedroom when he found the dusty album at the back of the wardrobe, wrapped in faded yellow newspapers. His brother had gone to the tip with his dad and a car boot full of their granddad’s belongings. At first he hadn’t realised just what it was he was looking at but he knew there was something strange about the pictures in the album. It had Memento Mori in gold letters engraved into the soft brown leather cover. He’d had no idea what that meant, but would try and find out. There was no one in the pictures that he knew and they looked as if they were very old. Not wanting his dad to throw it out on his next visit to the local tip, Heath ran downstairs and stuffed it into his backpack. It was his secret, and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it – not even his brother. Well, not unless he was going to help him somehow find dead people to take pictures of. That photograph album had started this obsession with death, be it in male or female form – although he much preferred females; they were so much more elegant and prettier than men. His warped obsession with death had now resulted in the dead girl in front of him.
She was his first and quite possibly his last; it was too risky. He’d briefly considered the implications before it all happened but he hadn’t realised just how seriously a missing teenager would be taken. He thought they’d assume she’d run away and that would be that – the reality had been far different. The police had been crawling all over the village, surrounding fields and woods looking for the missing girl who had been on her way to visit her friend who lived at the opposite side of the village. It had scared him, seeing the crowds of villagers that had gathered with their dogs and the many police officers who’d been drafted in to search for her. He’d known her since he had moved back to the village he’d lived in as a child and set up his business, taking her first photographs when she had been seven. Then every year since until she was seventeen. Sharon Sale had come to him alone this time, asking him to take some photos she could send off to a modelling agency, only he wasn’t to tell her parents because they would freak. She had told him she would pay him but he had shook his head, telling her that he would do it for her if she would do a big favour for him and she’d agreed. Perhaps if she’d known what it was he’d wanted she would have run away as fast as she could and never come back. He knew her by her name, just like he knew all the local children that the parents brought to him for their portraits to be taken.
It had been two weeks now and he deemed it safe enough to take her to the woods behind the cottage and bury her. He had already dug a deep grave in the early hours this morning; it had taken him hours but it had been worth it because the woods had been searched three times now, by police, the villagers (including himself) and then searched again with sniffer dogs. Yesterday they had publicly declared that they thought the girl had left the area. He wished he could keep her for ever but if they did come looking, how would he explain to them that he had a dead girl in the freezer in his garage? It was far too risky; he was a patient man and was happy enough to wait until the fuss died down, even if took a couple of years, before he tried it again. At least now he had started his own collection of photographs of the dead, and it was a work in progress – the best works of art weren’t achieved in a day. He would wait until the opportunity arose and it was the right time to do it all over again. He had no doubt that soon enough another girl with big ambitions of becoming a model would turn up at his doorstep and when they did he would be ready.
Chapter 1
Annie Ashworth let out a sigh and turned on her side. The heat from the late afternoon sun was warming her skin and even though she’d tried her best to keep out of the direct sunlight she still had a warm, golden glow. Her husband, Will, had a deep, bronze tan, his normally clean-shaven chin was covered in dark stubble and his dark blond hair had lightened considerably with the sun. He looked the picture of complete health and happiness but she knew different. He was lying on his side with his back to her and her eyes fell on the angry, red scar which ran across his right kidney. It would take a long time for it to fade into oblivion and when it did she hoped the memories would go with it. She was so lucky he was still alive, that they both were.
She shivered at the thought of that man, Henry Smith, and his accomplice, Megan. What she would have given to have watched their bodies being brought up from the cellar of Beckett House in bla
ck body bags and wheeled out to the waiting private ambulances. But she’d had to go with Will; he had been so badly injured and she had needed to be by his side. Jake, her best friend and colleague, had stayed along with Cathy and Kav, their inspector and sergeant when they were both stationed back in Barrow, to watch on their behalf. They had brought Megan up first because her body had been the most straightforward to bag up. She’d fallen down the cellar steps from top to bottom at Beckett House and instantly broken her neck. Henry, though, had got what he deserved. That strange man/monster thing had sliced his throat open with its long sharp claws but not before Annie had watched the terror on Henry’s face as he had stuck his knife into its strange, grey body. Jake had told her when he came to see her in the hospital that even Matt the pathologist had been horrified to see the mess of blood and limbs. No one had ever seen anything like the strange creature that lived in the drains below Beckett House, and it had been badly injured by Henry because there had been a trail of blood which led to the huge drain in the corner of the cellar – but then it had disappeared. Search teams had been brought in with special infra red and thermal imaging cameras and apart from a trail of blood that stopped suddenly in the sewers there had been no trace of it. Annie suspected that it had gone deep underground to another lair and either died or gone into hibernation. She hoped for Martha Beckett’s sake that it had curled up and died. The last time she had spoken with the elderly woman she had arranged to have the drain filled in with concrete and the cellar door permanently sealed shut. She had told Annie about the long letter she had written detailing the history of the house and everything that had happened there. She had given it to her solicitor with strict instructions that when the day came that someone was eager enough to buy Beckett House they would be given a copy of the letter so they were fully aware of the circumstances. It had made Martha feel much better but Annie knew that the house would be snapped up by some property developer who wouldn’t be remotely interested in the letter or the history of Beckett House. They would turn it into luxury apartments and move on to the next project. Annie just hoped that history wouldn’t repeat itself and no one with small children moved in there. All of this had been kept hush, hush and out of the media for the sake of Martha who had kept the terrible secret of the thing hidden for years. One day they could make a film about what happened at Beckett House; it was that horrific no one would ever believe it was all true.
She picked up her Kindle. It was amazing how Will could lie there for hours and not get bored. Turning to face her he smiled as his hand reached out for hers and she held it tight. His fingers trailed across the baby bump and he let them rest there.
‘I thought you were asleep again.’
‘What do you mean, again?’ He opened one eye and winked at her, ‘I’m just making the most of the last day before we have to go back to reality. I’ve been thinking about it, and you know I’ll have to go back to work soon, don’t you?’
She nodded, wishing they could stay here – cocooned on this island for ever, away from the madness that seemed to take over their lives on a regular basis.
‘I know you do, but are you ready to go back? I mean they couldn’t exactly say no if you had a bit longer off, could they? You almost…’
She couldn’t say the words because it set her heart racing every time she thought about what had happened at the Lake House where she’d almost lost him.
‘I think I’m ready, Annie. As much as I love spending time with you I’m getting a bit fidgety, restless. I need to be doing something a bit more challenging with my life than pottering around pretending everything is okay.’
She knew how he felt – she was on restricted duties because she was six months pregnant and she was bored, bored, bored. Although she was glad to be away from the prying eyes of the public and every weirdo that seemed to be attracted to her, she still liked to do her job.
‘If you’re ready that’s fine; I’m just being completely selfish but I love having you around. Although I suppose you’re bound to start getting on my nerves sooner or later.’
She winked at him and he shoved her arm. Jumping up he bent down and kissed her lips then he moved further down and kissed her swollen stomach.
‘I thought I was already getting on your nerves; you were a right grump before we came on holiday.’
‘Well, maybe just a little; you know I like my own space and I was getting fed up of doing nothing myself. But I’ve forgiven you because you brought me here.’
‘So it was a good choice coming here?’
‘Yes, probably the best idea you’ve ever had apart from marrying me. I’d never even thought about Hawaii until you showed it to me on the internet. It’s so perfect, just how I imagined paradise to be. Could you imagine living here? It must be so wonderful.’
He smiled and she knew that he loved to please her and she also knew she was very lucky that both of them were still alive to be here enjoying this perfect holiday.
‘Come on, how about we take a dip then go and get ready for tea?’
She held her hand out for him to pull her up, tucking her Kindle under her towel.
‘I’m starving.’
Will laughed, ‘Funnily enough I thought you might say that; after all it’s been, what, two hours since you last ate?’
‘You know I’m feeding for two; it’s the only time I’ll ever have an excuse to eat what I want without worrying.’
‘You could eat for three for all I care; as long as you’re happy then so am I.’
They walked hand in hand towards the crystal blue ocean which was gently lapping at the sand. She didn’t hear her phone which was at the bottom of her beach bag ringing; she’d switched it to silent – in fact she hadn’t bothered to look at it for days. She wasn’t bothered about telling the whole world on Facebook what she was doing every single second of the day, unlike most of her friends. They walked into the water, which made her yelp at the coldness. Will began to splash around and she sank into the water and began swimming, relishing the sudden change in temperature which cooled her warm skin. Further down she could see the beach was full of people but their hotel had its own private beach which was never busy. Even their ground-floor room had sliding patio doors which looked out onto a lush green lawn, with palm trees towering above to provide shade from the constant heat. It also had the shortest walk to the Pacific Ocean she could imagine. When Will had booked this holiday he had thought about everything, knowing that if it was hot she wouldn’t feel like walking far. Her phone kept on ringing in the bottom of her bag but oblivious to it she began to swim towards the floating sundeck not far from the shore, to work up an appetite before they went back to get ready to go out and make the most of their last evening together in paradise.
Chapter 2
Matilda Graham had finally plucked up the courage after dithering for days and told her mum, Lisa, she was going with a friend for a job interview at a hotel in Bowness. She had known she’d object to it because she always did.
‘How ridiculous – you can’t drive, Tilly. How on earth do you expect to get up to Bowness day in day out and home again? It’s at least a thirty-minute drive there and back on a good day, without traffic or bad weather.’
‘It’s not ridiculous, Mum. They might let me live in – and if not I’m pretty sure Aunty Annie would let me stay with her. She has plenty of room in that big house and I wouldn’t get in her way. She wouldn’t mind at all.’
‘No, she might not mind but I certainly would; you never know who’s going to turn up knocking on her door. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Yorkshire bloody Ripper decided to pay her a visit.’
And so it had continued for the next ten minutes until Tilly had stormed out of the kitchen and up to her bedroom, slamming the door for good measure. They hadn’t spoken for the rest of the afternoon and when Ben arrived home Lisa was drinking her second glass of wine. He walked in, looked at the half-empty bottle of Chardonnay on the table and nodded.
‘Rough day
?’
‘You could say that. Your daughter has got it into her head she can go for a job interview at some hotel in Bowness and live and work up there – for Christ’s sake, she can’t even keep her bedroom tidy.’
‘It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard, Lisa. At least she’s looking for a job.’
‘Are you having a laugh, Ben. She said if the hotel won’t let her live in then she’ll go and stop with your Annie. Which is never a good idea. I love your sister to bits but she has more nutters and serial killers chasing her than the bloody detectives on the television. No, it’s not a good idea at all – and you should go upstairs and tell her that.’
‘Yes, you’re right about Annie but she’s pregnant now and that man who was stalking her is dead. For all we know it’s not as if Tilly will even get the job; the least you can do is let her go there and have an interview. It will be good experience for her and if she does get it then we’ll discuss what’s going to happen then. How does that sound?’
‘Fucking ridiculous, Ben. The day you actually stand by me and my opinions I’ll probably drop dead with shock. Do what you want, but I’m not being a part of it. You can tell her and if anything bad happens then on your head be it.’
She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. Ben walked across and kissed his wife’s forehead, then he sighed. All he seemed to do lately was try to keep the peace between them but it was getting more difficult each day. Then he went upstairs to talk to his daughter, who had music blasting from her room so loud the floor was vibrating underneath his feet. No doubt it had been to drown out the noise of him and Lisa arguing. Tilly hated it when they argued, which seemed to be an awful lot lately. What she didn’t realise was that she was the cause of most of the arguments. He’d never imagined teenage girls could be such hard work.