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

by Robin Roughley

  ‘Hello,’ she whispered in a voice thick with the horror of what she had seen in the pictures.

  ‘I’ve got another address for you, boss,’ Bev said.

  Marnie felt her mind reeling, the disbelief flying around her shocked brain.

  ‘Give it to me,’ she hissed.

  ‘You OK?’ Bev asked.

  ‘Just do it!’ Marnie virtually screamed.

  Tom Conway stepped back in shock as he looked at Marnie’s profile, her face fixed in a snarl of pure hatred, her teeth bared, her eyes ablaze with fury.

  92

  ‘Look, what the fuck is happening here?’ Acton asked.

  Williams had a cigarette on the go, his eyes fixed on Rowan who still lay slumped on the grotty bed, her dark hair covering her face.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, as the smoke drifted into the room.

  ‘Well, you do realise she is fucking cracked,’ Acton whispered, his voice quivering with fear.

  Williams glanced at him and smiled and Acton instantly remembered he was trying to rationalise with a man who cut off body parts for a living. Over the years, Acton had dished out his fair share of beatings – normally at Jimmy Rae’s request – he was used to the sight of blood and gore. But it was the madness he had seen in the woman’s eyes that really spooked him. When she had looked at him it was as if she were looking at a lower life form, something to be crushed underfoot without a second thought. Now, he saw a similar look in Williams’s dark eyes, a twisted kind of insanity lurking in the depths.

  ‘When you took the cash, you agreed to see the job through,’ Williams said, taking another long pull on the cigarette.

  ‘But I thought I was working for you, I thought you wanted to take over from Jimmy, I—’

  ‘Yeah well, you should have read the small print.’

  ‘Small print, what bloody small print?’

  Williams smiled. ‘Too late now, you’ve taken the Queen’s shilling, my friend, and once you do that then you belong to her until she decides otherwise.’

  Acton licked his lips nervously. ‘Look, I thought all this was about Rae, I didn’t know anything about taking a fucking kid. I mean, what is this all about and why did she kill Phelps?’

  Williams looked at Acton through a cloud of smoke, the smile still curling his lips. ‘I’ve worked for Clarisse Wold for over ten years and I learned a long time ago that it’s pointless trying to figure out how her mind works.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘All you have to do is say yes, no matter what she asks of you.’

  ‘But this is fucking madness, she’s just a bloody woman—’

  ‘Remember the man you shackled with chains and then dumped in a local quarry?’

  Acton took a step back in shock. ‘What?’

  ‘Rae told you he was a grass who owed him money, right?’

  Acton started to shake his head, his mind splintered by the shock of what he was hearing. ‘I …’

  ‘Rae lied to you, it was the woman who wanted him dead – don’t ask me why, I have no idea – but he did it without a second thought because he knew the consequences if he said no to her.’

  Acton couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

  Williams dropped the cigarette to the floor and folded his arms. ‘She knows all about you, your family, friends, and now she has you. So, if you want my advice then you’ll keep your mouth shut and do exactly as she says. And don’t get any ideas about taking care of her yourself, she has plans in place if she dies and believe me, lots of people will do anything to make sure she keeps breathing.’ Williams stepped closer. ‘I’ve thought about cutting off her head many times but I know the price would be too high, not for myself but for the ones I care about.’

  The thought that the killer, Williams, cared about anyone else seemed preposterous but Acton believed him utterly.

  ‘Smile and nod and learn how to say yes and you’ll be fine.’

  “‘Fine!”’ Acton almost screamed.

  Williams shrugged. ‘You’ll learn soon enough that you have no choice.’

  On the bed, Rowan groaned and Williams looked at her and sighed.

  ‘Go and find the woman and let her know the girl is waking up.’

  Acton hesitated, his mind still on a fast spin cycle.

  Williams looked at him. ‘Move your sorry arse,’ he spat.

  Acton almost ran across the room, his stride long, the terror with him every step of the way.

  93

  ‘I’ll drive,’ Marnie said, pulling open the driver’s door, the wind snatching it from her hand as she jumped behind the wheel. She managed to grab the handle and slam the door closed just as Conway flopped into the passenger seat and handed her the keys.

  It took Marnie three attempts to force the key into the ignition, firing the engine she snapped on the headlights and glanced at Conway, he had his head resting back against the headrest. Even in the darkness she could see blood on his lips, dark and wet, his eyes screwed shut, fighting the pain.

  ‘Shit,’ Marnie hissed and Conway opened his eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, just get going,’ he mumbled.

  Marnie turned back, thrust the car into gear and planted her right foot to the floor, the car shot forward and she grabbed second, flying through the open gate and onto the rain-slicked road.

  The moon appeared through a break in the clouds and she hunched forward over the wheel, her eyes manic, her brain clotted with images of the curly-haired Clarisse Wold and the ghost-like image of the sour-faced boy peering through the window. She tried to fathom what it meant, Wold had been standing in front of the house that burned to the ground taking the monster, Boland, with it, how could that be, how could she have been there decades earlier and what was the link between the two of them? As soon as she had seen the boy at the window she had recognised him, recognised the man he would become, murderer of innocent children, kidnapper of her sister, a monster with black eyes devoid of any humanity.

  ‘Keep your eye on the road,’ Conway warned.

  Marnie blinked in surprise as the front nearside wheel clipped the grass verge. Forcing the distressing images from her mind, she concentrated on the here and now, the road unfolding in the swirling darkness, the rain hammering at the windscreen. She feathered the brakes as the car bulleted down the steep hill, the trees bordering the narrow lane appeared in the headlights, leaves were tossed by the car as it hurtled around a tight left-hand bend. The memories of her time in the burning house tried to invade her mind and she gritted her teeth, her hands holding the wheel tight.

  As soon as she managed to block out one distressing image another roared forward to take its place, bombarding her senses then making her gasp when she pictured the body of Jenny Bell, the victim who had ultimately lead her to Boland. She had been found in a shallow grave, her body emaciated from when Boland had kept her locked up for weeks without food or water.

  ‘No!’ Marnie snapped and Conway groaned by her side.

  She thought of the rest of the remains, the arm devoid of flesh, the small daisy ring on the little finger.

  Another bend approached at speed but this time she didn’t touch the brakes, the tyres squealed in protest as she fought with the wheel, then the road straightened out and fell away down the hillside. Marnie pressed down on the accelerator, her hair clung to her forehead, her eyes narrowed in determination. Trying to search for answers was pointless, the only thing that mattered was tracking down Wold and finding Rowan Hall.

  Conway groaned again, a sound full of dark pain, but Marnie couldn’t take her eyes off the road as the car sped downhill, picking up speed with every second that passed. When she saw the back of the Star Inn on the right she took her foot off the gas and pressed the brakes. The car slithered towards the junction and she glanced both ways before turning right, quickly moving through the gears, her hand slick on the wheel, the fear inside tried to reassert itself and she snarled like a cornered beast, her own rage rising as she refused to bend
to the fear inside.

  The Mondeo tore down the road and around a looping left-hand bend before climbing again, reaching the brow of the hill she hurtled down the other side, a flash of light flared in the wing mirror as the static speed camera clocked her speed. Marnie glanced at the speedometer, the needle hovering just below seventy.

  ‘That’s a big fine and at least six points on your licence.’

  Marnie glanced at Conway, he managed to smile though she could see the pain in his eyes.

  ‘I’ll just tell them you were driving,’ she replied, turning back to the road.

  ‘Yeah well, they can whistle for their cash – I won’t be around to pay it.’

  Marnie heard the sorrow in his voice and the longing that he had more time, more strength to see this through to the end.

  Like the rest of the voices in her head Marnie blocked him out until all she saw was Clarisse Wold’s face, the insolence in her eyes, an insolence that Marnie had seen once before as Boland carried her sister off leaving Marnie in a world of hurt that had lived with her for what felt like an eternity.

  The fury reignited and she got her foot down again, throwing caution to the howling wind as she chased down her demons.

  94

  ‘The girl’s waking up,’ Acton whispered and waited for the woman to acknowledge him. She was standing in the rain, her short hair flattened against her head, the knife still clasped in her right hand as the rain continued to fall. When she turned, the smile was on her face showing her small, feline-like white teeth.

  ‘I expect Mr Williams has told you a few home truths?’ she quizzed as she walked towards him through the rain. Her blue eyes hypnotised him, all Acton could do was nod.

  ‘So, you are left with no illusions about what will happen if you ever use the word “no” to me?’

  ‘I am,’ he croaked.

  The smile widened. ‘Good. Now, I assume you have a phone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you have Mr Williams’s number?’ she stopped three feet away, Acton was sure he could smell her madness polluting the wet night air. He nodded again, his lips pressed together in fear.

  ‘Right, I want you down the lane, I …’

  “‘The lane?”’

  The knife flashed out and stopped within an inch of his right eye. Acton gasped and snapped his head back but the knife tracked his movement.

  ‘I don’t like to be interrupted, Mr Acton, remember all you have to do is say “yes”, do you think you can remember that, is it simple enough for you?’ she requested pleasantly.

  ‘Yes,’ his voice wavered, his eyes wide in terror.

  ‘Good. Now, go down the lane and wait, if you see anyone approaching the house you ring Williams and then you follow them back here.’

  ‘Right.’

  The knife lowered slowly and then Wold brushed past him, Acton shivered out a sigh of relief.

  ‘Chop, chop, Mr Acton,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  Acton didn’t look back, instead he stepped out into the rain like some machine, wound up and set off to do their mistress’s bidding.

  Within seconds, he was drenched as the night swallowed him.

  95

  The car reached ninety on the deserted dual carriageway, the headlights piercing the downpour, rain sprayed off the tyres, wipers struggled to cope as Marnie flattened her foot to the floor. She risked a quick glance left, Conway’s head was slumped forward, chin on chest, one hand gripping his stomach in an effort to control the pain, the other planted on the dashboard.

  She faced front again, her face fixed with concern; the car started to vibrate, the wheels running over the rumble strips in the road as the roundabout appeared through the rain. Slowing down, she turned right onto a twisting country lane, taking the bends at speed, the fields looked sodden, she could see the moonlight shimmering off the silver pools of standing water. A quick glimpse and then they vanished and more trees obliterated the views.

  Marnie resisted the need for more speed, the last thing she wanted to do was end up in a ditch or ploughed into the stone wall, so she pushed the fear down, deep inside, and concentrated on the unfolding road. Every time an unwelcome image tried to gain entry to her mind she slammed a mental door, refusing to let it in.

  The road continued to twist and turn and she saw the sign on the left, welcoming visitors to Mallom and asking them to drive carefully through the village. Houses with thatched roofs began to appear, chocolate-box style, set back from the narrow lane, the fronts a mass of climbers, the gardens a mix of cottage garden flowers and modern block paving. Marnie caught sight of a trampoline in one garden, a Wendy house in another as she drove as fast as she dared. She eased for a junction before zipping across, the road dipped under a railway bridge, resulting in a minor flood so she slowed to a crawl as she made her way through, speeding up once she was clear. She almost missed the left turn, at the last second, she spotted the small white sign with the name, Cargill, stamped on it. Easing to a stop she reversed slightly before turning onto the lane.

  She travelled thirty yards before pulling into a small passing space on the left, yanking on the handbrake she turned off the lights.

  ‘You want to go the rest of the way on foot?’ Conway asked.

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’

  Unclipping the seat belt, he turned to her. ‘I think my sleeping days are almost over,’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’

  She saw his eyes harden at the question. ‘Positive,’ he replied, pushing open the door. By the time Conway had placed a foot on the road, Marnie was out, the wind whipping her ponytail over her shoulder. She looked over the roof of the car at Conway who was grimacing into the rain but then he seemed to shake himself and they set off walking along a road running with water.

  ‘How far to the house?’ he asked.

  ‘Bev Harvey knows the place and she thinks it’s around three hundred yards from the main road.

  ‘I can manage that but if I do collapse then give my sorry arse a kick,’ he said as they trudged along.

  ‘We could have taken the car, but—’

  ‘No, you were right, it makes more sense approaching the place on foot, if there is anyone at the house then the headlights would have been easy to spot, even on a night liked this.’

  Marnie knew what he meant, there were no streetlights, in fact she could see no lights at all, just a heavy curtain of rain and darkness that seemed to stretch on forever.

  ‘Christ, I hope she’s here,’ he said.

  The image of Boland sneaked into Marnie’s mind and this time she allowed it in, he had taken children over a twenty-year period, though he had kept his last victim – young Jenny Bell – she been alive for weeks before she succumbed to starvation. The thought that the poor child had been dying a slow, lingering death whilst they tried to find her was still one of Marnie’s most frequent nightmares, guaranteed to snap her awake from a restless slumber with tears on her cheeks and the scream locked in her throat.

  They walked in silence, both lost in their own bleak thoughts as the rain fell around them. Tom Conway could feel the cancer inside, growing, spreading, and eating his strength as it ravaged his body. He tried to think when he had last eaten or slept but realised none of it mattered, all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other until they got to the house, and then he just prayed that they found what they were looking for because he didn’t think he would be able to function for much longer. When he stumbled, he felt Marnie grab his arm to steady him.

  ‘You OK?’

  He could hear the concern in her voice but abruptly his chest tightened as if he were being held in a monstrous embrace of bone-crushing proportions. He managed to nod his head and then he felt Marnie tense, her hand grabbing his arm tight.

  Conway looked up to see a man walking around the corner, his head lowered against the rain, hands thrust into his pockets.

  ‘Fucking cunt,’ the man snarled,
unaware that he was being watched.

  The wind howled and the figure turned his head away in an effort to escape the wind and rain. Marnie and Conway watched in amazement as he continued to walk towards them, unaware of their existence.

  When he did look up he stopped, his eyes springing wide in shock.

  The three of them looked at one another through a curtain of rain and then Acton dipped a hand into his pocket, Marnie tensed, convinced that he was going to pull a gun on them. When she saw the screen of the mobile phone light up she bolted forward as the man looked down, his finger stabbing hurriedly at the screen.

  ‘He’s the watchman!’ Conway gasped, his voice filled with dread.

  Marnie exploded forward, all the tension and fear of the last few hours turned to adrenalin as she ran. The man glanced up at her in shocked surprise and then she slammed into him, she heard him grunt as she forced him back. Acton tried desperately to stay on his feet but the momentum was too much and he crashed backwards with Marnie on top of him.

  As he thrust out his hands in an effort to break the fall, the phone fell from his right hand and hit the ground, the screen cracked, the light died and he slammed to the floor.

  ‘Bitch!’ he yelled, throwing out a fist that slammed into the top of Marnie’s head. He tried to kick out but she kept hold, her arms locked tight around his flailing legs. He was cocking back his arm, ready to smash his fist into her upturned face when a boot slammed down, pinning his right arm to the ground. Acton grunted and looked up, a man stood above him, he looked like shit, his cadaverous face gaunt, even through the rain Acton could see the death-like pallor of his face.

  Marnie eased her grip and slithered forwards until she was kneeling by Acton’s head.

  ‘Who were you ringing?’ she demanded.