Cut The Threads: A Serial Killer Thriller That Will Keep You Hooked (DS Marnie Hammond Book 2)

by Robin Roughley

  Rogers’s face went an even brighter shade of red, and Marnie knew that the DI had done nothing to follow up on the case.

  ‘At least tell me you checked the sodding house?’ Reese asked.

  Rogers nodded in relief. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Silence as the room waited for Rogers to elaborate.

  ‘And?’ the DCI asked through clenched teeth.

  ‘Well, the place was fully furnished and no for sale sign in the garden so I assumed they hadn’t done a runner,’ Rogers replied lamely.

  DI Oaks turned in her seat, fixing her counterpart with a hard glare. ‘Did you actually gain entry to the house?’ she asked.

  Rogers licked his lip before shaking his head. ‘I meant to do a follow-up but things have been so hectic that—’

  ‘Don’t give me your bloody excuses,’ Reese snarled. ‘So, come on, tell us what you actually did do to sort this?’

  One or two people looked at him sympathetically, others simply enjoyed watching him squirm.

  ‘I questioned the people at the hostel,’ he mumbled.

  ‘But they were the ones who reported them missing, so of course you questioned them. What I want to know is what you did with the information they provided?’ Reese enquired as he folded his arms and glared at the DI. Rogers opened his mouth but nothing came out.

  ‘Waste of space,’ The DCI barked before dismissing Rogers with the wave of a hand.

  ‘Marnie get over to the address and check it out.’

  She nodded as Rogers threw her a hard stare from across the room.

  ‘The rest of you – stay on top of this – we need to know who killed Whitlow and Hamer and why they did it. We also need to know more about the Halls and Tom Conway, so come on chop chop get it sorted.’

  Chairs were pushed back as people headed for the door.

  ‘Rogers, you bloody well stay there, I want a word with you.’

  Marnie saw Rogers’s face crumple as she walked past. Once outside she collared Bev Harvey. ‘You fancy a ride out to the Hall’s address?’ she asked.

  Bev smiled and nodded. Two minutes later, they were in the car and heading out into the early-morning rush hour.

  50

  Acton watched warily as Rae strode into the kitchen, his cigarette-smoked hair standing in spikes, his eyes bloodshot and laced with malice.

  ‘How the fuck did you get in?’ he growled, slumping down at the kitchen table.

  ‘I tried ringing you and when you didn’t answer I called round on the off-chance and the back door was open,’ Acton explained.

  Rae grunted and rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘Right, I hope you have some news for me and let me tell you now I do not want to hear you whingeing that you’ve found nothing,’ Rae warned.

  ‘Dave Hamer’s been murdered.’

  Rae scowled. ‘The little prick who ran the flat on Derage Rise?’

  Acton nodded. ‘I’ve just had a call from my friendly copper and apparently someone stamped all over his fucking head until there was bugger-all left.’

  The dark look in Rae’s eyes intensified. ‘What’s this got to do with Tam?’

  Acton swallowed the sense of foreboding. ‘I’m not sure yet but—’

  ‘Spare me your bullshit, I want to know all about it by close of play today or you and me will be having words.’

  Acton could hear the threat in Rae’s voice, see it in his dark eyes.

  ‘I’ll sort it, Jimmy.’

  ‘You’d better.’

  ‘I found out about the knocking shop in Grafton,’ Acton said in an effort to deflect the anger that was building in Jimmy’s eyes.

  ‘And?’

  ‘There’re two terraced houses owned by a builder called Tony Collier, and—’

  ‘Do you know where the cunt lives?’ Rae interrupted.

  Acton nodded. ‘Yeah, he—’

  ‘I want his house checking,’ Rae barked as he yanked a cigarette from the pack and lit up.

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘I want the bastard finding, as soon as you’ve got the cunt then you ring me – is that clear?’

  ‘Crystal.’

  ‘Good, and while you’re sorting that I’ll be having a word with Phelps, see what that little bastard has to say for himself.’

  ‘Arnie?’

  ‘Yes, Arnie. Whoever killed Tam must have got his information from somewhere, and let’s face it, Phelps must know what’s happened by now and yet he hasn’t been in touch and I …’

  His phone rang and Rae’s scowl grew even deeper at the interruption. Thrusting a hand into his pocket he snatched it out, checking the screen before answering.

  ‘Yeah, what do you want?’ he rumbled.

  Acton watched nervously, Rae’s face grew red with fury as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Rae barked, his hand tightening on the phone. Eyes bulging, he listened as the murmured voice on the other end continued to talk, in the end Acton rose from the chair and headed over towards the sink, wanting to put some distance between himself and Rae.

  ‘Fucking bastard!’ Rae screamed, Acton winced, he turned to find his boss staring at the phone, his hand shaking in anger.

  ‘Problem?’ Acton asked.

  Suddenly, Rae blasted to his feet. ‘“Problem”!? Bloody “problem”!? That was your copper friend calling in with a fresh update. According to him, some cunt turned up at Chelsea’s gaff last night and knocked the shit out of her.’

  Acton frowned at the news. ‘How is she?’

  Rae planted his hands on the table and loomed forward. ‘The bastard used a knife on her and—’

  ‘What about that husband of hers?’

  Rae snorted in disgust. ‘Cuts and bruises.’

  ‘So, he was there and didn’t stop it?’

  ‘What do you expect, Joseph Bold is fucking useless,’ Rae shook with rage.

  ‘Do we know what they were after?’ Acton asked cautiously.

  Rae shook his head. ‘No, but first Tam gets slaughtered then this Hamer cunt and now Chelsea gets cut up. It has to be the same bastard that did for Tam, it has to be!’

  ‘Do you want me to go up to the hospital see if I can have a word?’

  Rae jabbed out a finger. ‘I’ve told you what I want you to do and that doesn’t include sitting by a hospital bed on your fat arse all day eating grapes. I’ll be the one who talks to Chelsea, not you!’

  ‘No problem, I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll shift your arse and get the job done, now fuck off out of my sight.’

  Acton felt the anger rise but pushed it down deep before Rae noticed the look of hatred that flashed across his face. Turning, he walked out through the back door, breathing out the frustration as he made his way down the side of the house. As soon as he was clear of the window he stopped, his chest rising and falling with emotion.

  ‘Fucking cunt,’ he hissed, then his face fell back into the normal blank expression. Half a minute later, he was behind the wheel, driving down the gravel drive he allowed himself the tightest of thin smiles.

  51

  Marnie’s eyes widened as she turned the handle of the back door and felt it click open. Bev stood at her side, her hand resting on her baton.

  The rear garden was large, the grass about six inches high, in the far corner stood a huge oak with an elaborate tree house nestled amongst the thick branches, a stout wooden ladder leading up to a small red door.

  Marnie stepped into the fitted kitchen diner, the air had a faint stale smell, the worktops were clean, two plates and matching dishes stood on the drainer, a small table nestled in an alcove to the left, the floor covered with beech laminate boards.

  They moved through the kitchen and into the lounge, in one corner stood a large television, the screen layered with a thin coat of dust, the huge cream sofa had the cushions plumped, the coffee table was free of clutter. Marnie moved left and into the hallway, she could see a scattering of mail on the mat.

/>   ‘I’ll check the bedrooms, you take a look at the post,’ she said, making her way upstairs.

  Reaching the landing, she looked back down, Bev was on her haunches gathering up the letters. Marnie moved along the landing, opening the first door on the left, the bedroom contained a double bed, neatly made, bedside cabinets either side, with a fitted wardrobe taking up the whole of one wall. All neat and tidy, evidence of Hall’s army training, but so impersonal, nothing out of place, no photos, books, or reading glasses.

  She slid back one of the wardrobe doors to reveal three shelves, each one contained jeans and T-shirts neatly folded, three dark suits hung from coat hangers, the bottom of the wardrobe had three pairs of trainers and two pairs of sensible leather shoes. Sliding the door closed, she opened the second one, the army uniform had been placed on the shelf, the peaked cap resting on top.

  Marnie looked around the room, even checking beneath the bed. Finding nothing, she checked the second bedroom, this one contained a single bed, the walls were festooned with pictures of boy bands, none of which Marnie recognised. Again, the bed was neat and tidy, the pillows placed just so. She moved over to a long shelf on the far wall lined with photographs in colourful frames. In the first one, Rowan Hall was with a woman Marnie assumed was her mother, they looked similar, both smiling for the camera, the sun shining as they shouted the word cheese. The next showed Rowan with her father, taken in the back garden, Marnie could see the oak in the background but without the tree house.

  She scanned the next three, all showing Rowan, with either her mother or father or both. The very last in line showed Rowan on the shoulders of a tall man with short dark hair dressed in shorts and a black T-shirt. Turning the picture over, she flicked the metal pins back that held the image in place before sliding it out. The words Uncle Tom had been written on the back in small careful letters. Flicking it over, Marnie looked into the eyes of the man who stared back at her, searching for the killer glint but all she could see was warmth and a huge smile as Rowan stretched her arms to a sky devoid of clouds. When she heard footsteps on the stairs she turned as Bev walked into the room.

  ‘Found anything?’ Marnie asked.

  ‘Just the usual – bills and junk mail.’

  Marnie sighed as she held out the picture. ‘Say hello to Tom Conway.’

  Bev took it and studied the image while Marnie opened the bedside drawer. When she saw the pink diary, she lifted it out and scanned through the first few pages.

  ‘I don’t get why the back door was unlocked,’ Bev said, handing the picture back.

  Marnie slipped it into the diary and slid it into her coat pocket.

  ‘Either the Halls forgot to lock it the last time they were here or someone had a key and let themselves in at a later date.’

  ‘You think Conway’s been here?’ Bev asked.

  Marnie thought for a moment before answering. ‘Well, if you think about it Conway and Hall go way back, he’s the godfather to Rowan so if anyone would have a spare key then he would be high on the list.’

  Bev nodded in agreement.

  ‘Right, I want SOCO to take a look, you get on to them while I check outside.’

  Before Marnie was halfway along the landing she could hear Bev putting in the request. Heading down the stairs, she backtracked through the house and into the garden. Sharp sunlight made her squint against the glare and then she looked up at the tree house, it even had curtains hanging at the small window and scalloped eaves, the whole structure apart from the door was painted a pale yellow.

  Crossing the lawn, Marnie gave the ladder a shake before making her way up, once she reached the door she turned the handle and pushed it open. More pictures adorned the walls, family shots with wide smiles, she spotted two more of Tom Conway, in one he stood between John Hall and his wife, his arms looped around their shoulders, in the second he was munching on a burger, his eyes wide for the camera. Marnie could see a small heater in the corner and two rolled-up sleeping bags sitting atop one another.

  She thought back to what Polly had said and how much John Hall loved his daughter and his job. This tree house was testament to that fact, Marnie had no doubt that Hall would have built this with his own hands. She could almost see them, father and daughter, working together, missing a wife and a mother and immersing themselves in the project in an effort to forget, for a short time, that she was no longer with them.

  With a sigh, Marnie closed the door and made her way back down the ladder before cutting left towards the garage. She stopped to peer through the small side window, the dark-blue Ford was parked inside, she could see shelves on the opposite wall containing cleaned, neatly-lined tools and old paint tins.

  Moving around to the front, she reached down to the handle of the overhead door and dragged it up, flies buzzed around her, then the smell blasted out, Marnie stepped back as the stink of decay hit her.

  Pressing her lips together in disgust, she made her way inside, keeping left, and walking alongside the Ford. When her eyes spotted the body slumped in front of the car she gasped and then coughed as the stench hit her lungs. Marnie closed her eyes for a few seconds in an effort to calm her jittering nerves then she opened them and looked down. The large pool of blood beneath the head had long since dried on the cement floor, the man was wearing jeans and a black hooded top, the back of his head revealed a huge cleft, the white bone of the shattered skull seemed to shine stark amongst the crater of gore. A foul liquid was seeping from the body, areas had been gnawed away, his tongue was black and swollen, his eyes eaten away. Maggots and flies were crawling around his face, disappearing inside and—

  ‘Jesus!’

  Marnie snapped a look over her shoulder to find Bev standing behind her.

  When she saw the look of horror on the young PC’s face Marnie turned back in time to see the rat scuttle out from beneath the remains, dashing under the car, long, naked tail trailing through the dried blood.

  ‘Oh God,’ Bev gasped as her hand went to her mouth in disgust.

  Sadly, Marnie lifted out the phone to call for back up, Bev turned and sprinted out of the garage, the sound of her retching matching the drone from the phone.

  52

  Half an hour later, the driveway to the house had been cordoned off, two officers stood at the gates to the property, doing their best to keep the neighbours and morbid passers-by from getting too close to the crime scene. Reese stood inside the garage with Marnie to his left and Doc Kelly on the right.

  ‘Do we know if it’s John Hall?’ the DCI asked as he took in the devastation.

  Marnie lifted her shoulders and shivered. ‘I checked the pockets but there’s no ID and to be honest I didn’t want to move the body until the doc arrived.’

  Reese grunted in understanding. ‘OK, Kelly, let’s get started.’

  The doctor nodded, moving forwards and standing over the body he snapped on the latex gloves before easing down to his haunches.

  ‘Do we have any keys for the car?’ Reese asked.

  ‘Not a clue,’ Marnie replied, watching Kelly pull out his torch and shine it onto the back of the dead man’s head.

  ‘What about the house, any sign of a struggle?’

  ‘Nothing. The place is spotless.’

  ‘So, Hall and his daughter liked to keep the place clean?’

  ‘Well, considering Hall spent time in the army then it’s hardly a surprise.’

  ‘And you say the back door was unlocked when you arrived?’

  Marnie slipped her hands into her pockets. ‘Yes, but no sign of a break-in.’

  ‘OK, if this is Hall then perhaps he was in the house and he came out through the back door and into the garage to get something from the car or maybe he was heading out somewhere and then, wallop, down he goes.’

  Marnie raised an eyebrow and Reese dragged up a tired smile. ‘I know, “wallop” isn’t very technical but you know what I mean.’

  Marnie paused before answering. ‘Someone must have been watching the
house, waiting for Hall to show, as soon as he enters the garage they attack but it still leaves us clueless about Rowan.’

  ‘Well, if that dickhead Rogers had done his job then we would have been here weeks ago. As it stands. Rowan Hall has been missing for over a month and we’re only just cottoning on to the fact that foul play is involved.’

  Marnie could hear the anger in his voice and she felt the same way, the DI with the thinning, sandy-coloured hair had failed on every single level but worse than that he had kept his mouth closed and then spouted the feeble excuse that he’d been “too busy”.

  ‘And we’re absolutely sure that Hall had a run-in with Hamer?’ the DCI asked as Kelly continued his visual examination.

  ‘Positive, both Polly Hardy and Emma Winstanley confirmed that he was there at the hostel shouting the odds and Hall threw him out,’ she paused. ‘But I can’t see Hamer doing this.’

  Reese didn’t look convinced. ‘Come on, Marnie, you can’t say that, for all we know he could have followed Hall home and hid in the bloody bushes. We know John Hall threw him out of the hostel so he had reason to hate the man. He turns up here and waits, Hall comes out to the garage and Hamer sneaks up behind and sucker punches the guy.’

  ‘I get that, but what about Rowan?’

  Reese ran a hand across the stubble on his chin. ‘Perhaps Hamer took her to make up for the girl he lost.’

  Marnie shivered at the implications, Rowan Hall being handed over as a peace offering to Jimmy Rae for losing Emma Winstanley.

  ‘Think about it, Marnie, Hamer kills Hall and perhaps Rowan was in the house when it happens. You already said the back door was open so Hamer could have entered the house and taken the girl. He takes her back to Rae and expects a pat on the back for a job well done but perhaps Rae flips. You already said he’s capable of acting on impulse, so he kills Hamer, or has him taken away and killed, and then he spirits the daughter away.’

  Marnie tried her best to imagine a scenario that didn’t involve Rowan Hall being traded like a piece of meat, but the more she thought about her boss’s words, the more she realised that he could well be speaking the truth.