Conrad Boland’s screams echoing through her mind as his body was engulfed in flame.
Boland had been a monster, a monster driven by his own twisted desires; he had been responsible for taking at least ten children from across the country over a twenty-year period – taking them and killing them before burying their remains in a stretch of local woodland. The full extent of Boland’s atrocities had been destroyed in the blinding heat and flames that reduced his rambling house to a pile of grey ash. Marnie felt the familiar sense of guilt pushing at her fragile mind, Boland had been stopped yet Marnie still felt as if she had failed in some way, and now she was left in a limbo of anguish that ate away at her every second of the day. Lighting the cigarette, she slid the window down, the scent of cool mist drifted into the vehicle, mingling with the smoke as she lifted the picture of her sister from her coat pocket. Abby had been eight years old when Boland had snatched her from the park, Marnie had given chase in an effort to stop her sister from being taken. She had failed then just as she had failed now. Turning the image over, she felt the pain around her heart tighten, the words, ‘the one that got away’ had been written on the back of the photograph in Boland’s copperplate handwriting.
Marnie felt the tears prickle her eyes, the words should have held a flicker of hope. Though the truth was, it had been over fifteen years since her sister had been taken and if, by some miracle, she had managed to escape the clutches of Boland then where was she and what had happened to her in the intervening years?
She tried to find some comfort in the words but there was none. Only Boland had known the answers, but now he was dead and she was back where she started, not knowing if her sister was alive or dead.
Flicking ash through the window, she lifted the image and kissed it before sliding the picture back into her pocket.
It was her Sunday off and the truth was, she had struggled to find something to kill the hours until she was back on duty. After cleaning the house from top to bottom she had stood in the lounge and looked around the space, her mind anxious, her emotions frayed. To try to stop the swell of guilt, she had grabbed the car keys and headed out of Kirkhead, leaving the sprawl of houses and factories behind in an effort to ease her mind.
She watched a pair of swallows darting over the field of swaying wheat, performing daring aerobatics before vanishing from sight.
Dropping the half-smoked cigarette through the window, she sighed, afraid to close her eyes in case the image of her sister was there, the scowl in place, the blame shining from her eyes.
‘Jesus,’ she muttered, snapping her seat belt back into place; wheels spun on gravel as she tore away down the country lane.
Trying to escape the pain was a fruitless exercise but Marnie Hammond still gave it her best shot.
2
Johnno Redmain picked up the chunk of stone and tested the weight in his right hand; face split in a confident grin, he leaned back and launched it into the air. His eyes narrowed in disappointment as the rock missed the window by a mere six inches, hitting the brick wall with a dull thud before falling to the patch of weeds below.
At his side, Barry shook his head. ‘Come on, can’t you do better than that?’
‘Go on then, smart arse, let’s see if you can do any better.’
The gauntlet had been thrown down, Barry shrugged before bending and picking up a pebble-sized rock.
Johnno moved to the side, arms crossed in a sulk as his friend flung the stone into the hot, late-afternoon air.
As soon as it left his hand Barry knew it was heading straight for the pane of glass, a couple of seconds later, the stone crashed through and he thrust a fist skyward.
‘Fucking get in there!’ he yelled in delight.
Johnno frowned, seeing his friend gloat. ‘Lucky shot,’ he protested.
‘Skill, pal, not luck.’
The frown changed into a fully-fledged scowl as Johnno stormed off across the weed-infested strip of ground, heading for the factory door.
Barry exhaled, Johnno had always been a sore loser and not for the first time he wondered why he bothered having him as a mate.
He watched as Johnno pushed the door open and vanished inside.
A few weeks into the summer holidays and the truth was Barry was bored shitless. The first couple of weeks had been good, there had been half a dozen friends all buzzing at what the holiday might bring. However, it wasn’t long before Johnno had sulked when he failed to score in a three-a-side kickabout. The next day, six had become four, and now the other two lads had had enough of Johnno Redmain’s constant whingeing, ending in a full-blown argument when they couldn’t decide what to watch at the cinema.
‘Fuck them two,’ Johnno had spat as the two former friends stormed off into the crowd of cinemagoers.
Now, it was just the two of them and Barry Crowl was slowly starting to realise that he couldn’t spend another day, let alone a week, with his so-called mate.
He looked around the derelict courtyard, and for a few brief seconds he contemplated simply walking away. He had no doubt his former friends would be having a good time, there would be no dictator trying to rule with an iron fist, options were discussed and a vote taken and that was the end of the matter.
‘You coming or not?’
Barry looked up, Redmain had his head poking through the second-storey window that Barry had smashed, his face set in its usual scowl of aggravation.
‘Look, I’m thirsty, why don’t we go to the shop and get something to drink?’ Barry shouted up, although he already suspected his request would be denied.
‘I wanna check this place, now come on!’ Johnno bellowed.
The silence stretched out, Barry moved forward-resigned to his fate.
‘Get a move on!’ Johnno shouted, before vanishing from the window.
Barry cursed under his breath, it had been a hot day, he felt worn out, his mouth parched.
Reaching the shadow of the building, he wiped the sweat from his brow with a grimy hand, leaving rock dust smeared across his forehead before walking through the open door and into what would have been the reception area when the factory was open for business. The wall facing him was covered with crass graffiti and Barry took a moment to read that, Joanne loves sucking cock, and a mobile number scrawled underneath.
‘Jesus, come on, I’m growing a fucking beard here.’
Barry looked left, Johnno stood at the top of a flight of steps, hands on hips, the obligatory scowl in place.
‘Look, I’ve been in this place before and there’s nothing here, just empty rooms and shite,’ Barry whined, making his way to the bottom of the steps.
‘When? When did you come here?’
Barry scuffed his foot across the dusty floor. ‘About six weeks ago, and …’
‘Who with?’
‘What?’ Barry asked in confusion.
‘Bet it was with that tosser, Jezzer?’
‘Jezzer’s all right,’ he said defensively.
Johnno snorted and shook his head. ‘He’s a soft arse, I know that much.’
‘What are you on about now?’ Barry asked as he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
‘He always wants his own way and acts like a kid when he don’t get it.’
Barry almost laughed aloud but Johnno’s face remained deadly serious.
‘Look at that shit at the cinema, as soon as he knew we didn’t wanna watch that crap he threw a wobbly and ran off like a little bloody girl.’
Barry searched Johnno’s face, looking for any hint of irony and found none.
‘Now come on, let’s check this place out,’ he huffed before vanishing from the top of the steps.
Barry decided then and there that as soon as they got home he would go and find his old mates – that’s if they’d still have him.
Mind made up, he trudged to the top of the stairs to find Johnno waiting for him, the sour frown still evident on his narrow face.
‘Took your time, didn’t you?’<
br />
Barry chewed the inside of his cheek trying to keep a tight rein on his burgeoning anger. ‘I told you, there’s nothing here.’
Ignoring him, Johnno turned and strode away down the long, grey corridor, the floor was littered with debris, strip lights hung down from the ceiling in a tangle of wires.
Barry watched Johnno push open the first door on the right and glance inside before moving on to the next.
He remained at the top of the stairs, unable to raise the enthusiasm to follow.
Reaching the second door, Johnno went through the same routine, pushing it open and peering inside, his face set in a scowl of disappointment.
The further he moved away, the more Barry felt like turning and walking from the derelict building.
Three more doors were banged open and Johnno slowly blended with the shadows as he continued to search each room before moving along to the next.
Barry Crowl looked down at his feet, he felt thirsty, hungry, and pissed off.
He glanced up just as Johnno reached the last door at the end of the corridor, Barry knew it led to a small room that fed into another corridor then a flight of stairs that led to the third floor.
‘Waste of time,’ he mumbled.
Johnno kicked the door open … and then he was screaming, the sound echoing along the narrow corridor; Barry blinked in confusion, the piercing scream automatically sending a bolt of fear through his system.
Johnno lunged back, his arms thrashing at the air; as he turned to run his feet became entangled and he fell heavily to the floor. Barry could see his pale face, mouth stretched wide as another scream tore down the corridor. He hesitated for a moment and then he was running forward, wincing at the sound, his heart hammering.
Johnno scrambled forward on hands and knees, his trainers slipping and sliding on the gritty floor.
Gaining his feet, he blasted along the corridor, Barry’s eyes widened as his friend shoved him hard against the wall when he shot past, his scream still echoing down the narrow corridor.
He watched, astonished, as Johnno clattered from view down the steps.
The silence that followed was deafening and Barry hesitated in confusion, turning slowly he looked towards the open door at the end of the corridor.
He could see the floor littered with rubbish, and then he sniffed as he caught the strange scent that made his stomach flutter.
‘Run,’ the voice inside screeched.
Despite the warning, Barry took a faltering step towards the open door.
It felt as if his body were moving independently of his brain, his natural inquisitiveness placing one foot in front of the other.
Reaching the door, he squinted against the gloom, he could see a desk pushed into the corner, there was even an old whiteboard on the back wall. Someone had attempted a crude drawing of a naked women, her breasts looked huge, one leg was longer than the other, and she had one eye in the middle of her face.
Barry scowled at the image then he stepped over the threshold and glanced right, the scowl on his face deepened as he stared at the huge pool of red on the floor. When he looked up his heart stuttered; the body was tied to a broken office chair, the head missing, white bone poked up from the butchered flesh, the front of the shirt drenched with blood and gore.
All at once, Barry knew exactly why Redmain had been screaming, half a second later, he was following suit. Feet flying, mouth wide, the scream bouncing off the walls, he ran from the blood-soaked horror.
3
The wasteland had weeds sprouting through the concrete, chunks of half bricks and shattered glass lay strewn over the disused factory car park. Weaving the car around the debris Marnie pulled up alongside DCI Reese’s black saloon; blue lights turned lazily from the squad car parked near the entrance to the building.
PC Bev Harvey was standing guard in the derelict reception area, when she heard footsteps she flicked the torch up and Marnie blinked at the glare, raising a hand against the onslaught.
‘Sorry, boss,’ Bev apologised and lowered the beam.
Marnie dragged up a smile. ‘So, what’s the score?’
Bev grimaced and wiped a hand across her face, her complexion pale in the gloom. Marnie could see a smudge of white dust on the front of her jacket, her eyes held a hint of fear and disgust.
‘That bad?’ Marnie asked.
‘I’ve seen some things but this is grim,’ Bev admitted with a shake of her head.
‘Is Doc Kelly here?’
‘Yeah, he turned up with DCI Reese; apparently, his car was in for service so Reese picked him up en route.’
Marnie nodded and headed for the stairs, her footsteps echoing as she reluctantly made her way to the top.
She could see torchlight in the distance, tension rose inside making her quicken her pace until she was hurrying along the corridor.
Ten feet from the room and DCI Reese appeared in the doorway, Marnie watched as he blew out through pursed lips, he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his eyes brittle with shock.
Taking a last deep breath, she moved forward and stepped into the room.
Doc Kelly was crouched in front of the body, his face pale beneath the shock of thick black hair, a testimony to his Irish roots; when Marnie saw the head was missing she gasped in shock.
‘Grim isn’t it,’ Reese said, with a shake of the head.
Kelly threw Marnie a bright smile before turning back to the body.
Reese sighed. ‘Look at him, the more blood and gore, the more he likes it.’
Marnie tried to drag her gaze away from the horrific scene but her eyes remained glued to the body in the chair. Blood had pooled onto the floor, fascinated, her eyes tracked back up to the source. When she saw the hands and feet were missing as well, she felt the bile flood her mouth and clamped her lips together, determined not to give in to the reflex action.
‘As far as I can tell head, hands, and feet were removed by single blows,’ Kelly said as he stood up. ‘Could be an axe or maybe a machete,’ he pondered, sliding his hands into his pockets as he continued to look down at the body.
Squaring her shoulders, Marnie moved forward, trying her best to ignore the smell of spilled blood that wafted around her head in a dizzying miasma. ‘What about the time frame?’
Kelly see-sawed a hand. ‘Twenty-four hours-maybe less-but I’ll know more when I get him back to the lab.’
‘This might sound stupid but do we have any idea how he died?’ Marnie asked.
Kelly threw her a quizzical look and then smiled. ‘Well, I can say he wasn’t tickled to death.’
Marnie managed to drag up a smile. ‘Guess I asked for that.’
A moment later, they heard the wail of a siren, blue flashing light flickered through the broken window, throwing light onto the pock-marked ceiling tiles.
The doctor checked his watch. ‘That’ll be SOCO, as soon as they’ve finished, I’ll have the body moved and get to work.’
Reese nodded in understanding before looking around the shabby room. ‘Well, someone went to the trouble of bringing our man all the way out here, so this wasn’t a spur of the moment attack.’
‘Perhaps they were after information,’ Marnie pondered, as the swirling blue on the ceiling vanished.
Reese glanced at her and nodded. ‘Makes sense.’
‘Gangland?’ Kelly asked with a grimace.
Torchlight lanced out along the corridor making Reese wince at the onslaught. ‘Christ, I hope not but it’s too early to say, let’s see what you come up with at the autopsy.’
Kelly scratched his nose as two figures dressed in white paper suits walked into the room.
‘Right, I want a generator in here ASAP, it’s no use searching by torchlight,’ the DCI said.
‘It should be here in the next ten minutes, gov,’ one of the SOCO team replied.
‘Good,’ Reese grunted as he headed for the door.
Marnie took one last look at the grisly remains before following him out into
the corridor.
‘Who put the call in?’ she asked.
Reese poked his head out of the broken window and took a gulp of fresh air. ‘Two kids were mooching around the place, they said they didn’t know they were trespassing.’
‘That’ll teach them to ignore the keep-out signs,’ Marnie said, straight-faced.
Reese raised an eyebrow. ‘I would imagine they won’t get a decent night’s sleep for the next couple of years, that’s for sure.’
Marnie joined him at the window, the moon looked huge and strangely alien, tinted red as the last of the sun vanished.
The fields beyond stretched to a dark mass of woodland on the horizon.
‘You’d only tie someone to a chair if you wanted to spend time questioning them,’ she offered.
‘Agreed.’
‘And chances are whoever did that,’ giving a nod back at the body, ‘would have got the information they were after.’
Reese scuffed his foot over the grit-strewn floor. ‘They took the head, hands and feet to make identification difficult.’
‘That’s the part that bothers me the most.’
Reese frowned. ‘Explain.’
Marnie glanced back towards the room and shivered. ‘I get that the body parts have been removed to make our job harder but it’s also a way of buying more time.’
‘More time for what?’
Marnie turned and looked at her boss. ‘To do it again,’ she replied.
Reese thrust his hands into his pockets, his face grim.
It made sense, if the body had been left intact then they could have found out who the dead man was through fingerprints or dental records, as it stood they were clueless, unless Kelly got lucky during the autopsy. While they were busy discovering the identity of the dead man, the killer could move onto the next victim without the fear of being caught.
Cut The Threads: A Serial Killer Thriller That Will Keep You Hooked (DS Marnie Hammond Book 2) Page 2