Cavendish & Walker Box Set

by Sally Rigby

  ‘Ellie. Do you have copies of the photos from the victims’ phones?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do me a favour and pull up the one of Lydia Parker and enlarge it, please. There’s something I want to check out.’

  She headed over to Ellie’s desk and looked at the screen at the enlarged photo.

  ‘What do you want to look at?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘See here.’ She pointed to the sticker in the corner of the window. ‘This photo was taken at a different angle from the others. We can see the corner of the window and this sticker. What does it say? Can you enlarge it a little more?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ellie magnified it.

  They both peered at it. It was a no smoking sticker and below it said Lenchester University.

  ‘This was taken in university accommodation.’ She glanced over to Whitney, who’d just ended her call. ‘Whitney, quick. Over here.’

  Whitney ran over. ‘What?’

  ‘Look.’ She pointed at the photo. ‘See that sticker in the corner? It’s from the university. They’re keeping their victims in a house or flat belonging to the uni.’

  Whitney stared open-mouthed at her and then enveloped her in a huge hug. ‘Thank you. Thank you. Ellie, get into the university accommodation database and find out if any of their flats or houses are rented out to one of the twins.’

  ‘Sorry, guv. I don’t have access to it. It’s separate from the student database we had access to when we had Kevin Vaughan in custody.’

  ‘Give me a second, and I’ll see what I can do,’ George said, remembering one of her mature students worked part-time in the accommodation office.

  She phoned the university.

  ‘Please may I speak to Mary Goff?’

  ‘It’s Mary speaking.’

  ‘It’s George. Dr Cavendish.’

  ‘Hello, Dr Cavendish. How can I help?’

  ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble, but I’m working with the police on an important investigation, and we urgently need some information.’

  ‘Is it the campus murder case?’

  She glanced at Whitney, who was moving from foot to foot, her hands twitching. Strictly speaking, she shouldn’t say anything, but this was different. ‘Confidentially, yes.’

  ‘I won’t say anything,’ Mary said. ‘What information do you need?’

  ‘Please can you tell me if either Henry or Harriet Spencer rent any university accommodation?’

  ‘No problem. It won’t take long.’

  ‘She’s looking,’ George mouthed to Whitney.

  ‘Thanks,’ Whitney replied.

  They stood in silence, waiting for Mary to complete her search. It seemed like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes.

  ‘Got it,’ Mary said. ‘There’s a house in Harriet Spencer’s name in Dorchester Street. Number sixty-six.’

  ‘Thanks, Mary. I owe you one,’ George said.

  ‘Glad to be of help. See you next week in class.’

  George ended the call.

  ‘Right,’ Whitney said. ‘George, come with me. Ellie, call Matt and Frank. Tell them the address. We’ll meet them there. No sirens. We can’t afford to warn them.’

  ‘Yes, guv. Do you want me there, too?’ Ellie said.

  ‘No. I want you to call Jamieson and explain the killers have Tiffany and ask for back-up.’

  ‘Me?’ Ellie grimaced.

  ‘I know it should be me, but I have to get to Tiffany. Please do this,’ Whitney implored, tears in her eyes, which she brushed away.

  George’s eyes prickled, too, and she blinked until they were gone.

  ‘No problem. I’m onto it. Good luck, guv,’ Ellie said.

  ‘Come on, Whitney,’ George said. ‘We’ve got them. Tiffany will be back with you in no time.’

  Chapter Forty

  This is going to be our last murder. For now. And we’re planning to go out with a bang. A huge bang. What better than to take the most treasured possession from the women trying to ruin our lives? DCI Walker will never be the same again after her daughter draws her last breath. The pain from her loss will stay with her for the rest of her life. Not only that, Walker will remember us for ever.

  Infamy can never be overrated.

  Sadly, we won’t be playing around with Tiffany for as long as we’d like. As long as we did with the others. Making them think we were all having fun together. And the less fun it was for them, the more it was for us.

  But not this time. We can’t afford the risk. We did take Tiffany out for breakfast, though, and insist she had her favourite. Eggs Benedict. See, we’re not all bad. We make sure our victims have something good to remember. And what better than food? The staff of life, as the Bible says.

  We’re having fun listening to all the messages Walker’s leaving for her daughter. I thought about texting as Tiffany, so Walker thinks she’s okay. But where’s the fun in that? I’d rather the pain started now and not when the body’s found.

  Right now, we’ve brought Tiffany to our house. Not the one the police know about. We’re not that stupid. This bolthole is our little secret. Tiffany’s in the living room at the moment, totally unaware of what’s about to happen to her. She’s feeling honoured we trusted her with our secret. Because we don’t tell anyone. You should’ve seen her excitement at the thought she was so special. For all I know, she’s already seeing us having a long-term relationship.

  Of course, that’s never going to happen. I don’t even like her. She’s way too immature and giggles all the time. But I like her enough to murder. As I’ve already told you, there’s a reason behind every murder, mostly to do with the girls themselves. I say mostly, because this one is about her bitch of a mother.

  In an ideal world, we should’ve gone for the mother. But it really wasn’t practical. Not to mention the others were all students, and I like things ordered. A police officer among several students wouldn’t work. It’s much better knowing she’ll be blaming herself for her daughter’s death. And we’ll make sure she knows it’s totally her fault.

  After we’re done with Tiffany, we’re planning to go overseas for a while. We’ll disappear to somewhere remote, where we’ll never be found. We’ll set ourselves up as vets. We’ve just got to get away before the body’s found, because they’ll close the airports and stations. The plan is to head for France on the train, and from there take a flight somewhere.

  Anyway, I don’t have time to sit ruminating over the future. I’ve a job to do. At least we have the whole day. Tiffany isn’t expected home until later this afternoon. That gives us enough time. It’s frustrating it’s not me actually strangling because of my arm. But that’s the only thing I can’t do. The sex will be great.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘Get out the fucking way,’ Whitney shouted, glaring angrily out of the windscreen. ‘Look at the idiots in front of us. Can’t they hear the siren? Or see the blue light?’ Her hands tightened over the steering wheel. ‘About fucking time,’ she yelled as she skirted around the red Mini which had finally pulled to the side to let them past.

  ‘Take some deep breaths. You can’t let this get to you.’

  George was sitting next to her, acting all calm and relaxed. How could she be like that, when so much was at stake?

  ‘Of course it’s getting to me. This is my daughter we’re talking about. We have to get there before …’ Her voice faded as bruised, strangled bodies of the other victims flashed across her eyes. Thoughts of what could be happening to Tiffany penetrated her brain. Was she already tied up? Had they stripped her? She shook her head to shut down her thoughts. She had to keep it together.

  ‘Look. They have no idea we’re on to them. We know from the other victims they don’t murder them instantly. We will get to Tiffany before they can do anything to her.’

  ‘What about the rape? What if we’re too late to stop that from happening?’

  She’d fucking kill the bastard if he laid one finger on her. And his bitch of a sister.
Whatever the consequences.

  ‘Think logically. Tiffany told you they were going out for breakfast. That would have taken a while, so even if they’re already back at the twins’ house they wouldn’t have had time to rape her. They have a ritual to follow—it’s how this works. Beginning with giving Tiffany her favourite food. They build up to the restraining and then the sexual assault. We’ll be there in time.’

  Her jaw lost a little of its tension. ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘I am.’ George gave a sharp nod of her head. ‘Does Tiffany usually eat breakfast?’

  ‘Yes. It’s her favourite meal. I don’t know how she does it. All I can bear first thing in the morning is coffee. If she’s got an early start at uni, she’ll have cereal and toast. At weekends, she loves a fry up.’ And usually she left the pans for Whitney to do. But at that precise moment, she’d kill for Tiffany to leave a sink full of pots and pans.

  ‘There’s every chance she’s not even back at Harriet’s house yet, in which case we can wait for them.’

  Her breathing slowed down as George’s calm words soothed her. The doctor was right. There was a good chance they’d beat them back there. She gave her a grateful nod and tightened her fingers around the steering wheel.

  ‘Dorchester Road is second on the left,’ she said, looking at the GPS. ‘Sixty-six is halfway up on the right.’

  She switched off the siren and turned into the street, driving past sixty-six and parking on the left. The street was deserted, and there was no discernible movement at Harriet’s place.

  ‘Come on.’ She released her seatbelt. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the others?’

  She glanced towards the house and then at George. She was right. It wasn’t wise for the two of them to go alone. Not to mention, taking in a civilian went against all the regulations. And even if she did let George come with, it would be two against two. The twins weren’t small and could easily fight back. She looked at her watch. ‘We’ll give them five, and then we’re going in. I can’t leave Tiffany any longer.’

  ‘We need more of us to take them down. I know we have the element of surprise, but that might not be enough. Especially as I don’t know what to do in these situations.’ George’s jaw was tense.

  ‘You’re forgetting I have this.’ She patted her Taser. And if she got within spitting distance of either of the twins, she’d fry their fucking brains.

  ‘What if they try to escape? What help will I be, other than being able to use my height and body weight?’

  ‘That will be enough. We’ll be fine going in there together.’ She was unable to push aside the thoughts it wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be putting George at risk. That wasn’t part of her job.

  She’d go in alone.

  ‘Okay, bu—’ George paused, and she saw Matt’s car had pulled up on the opposite side of the road.

  She pressed her radio. ‘Walker here. Who’s with you?’

  ‘I’m with Frank,’ Matt replied.

  ‘They know me, so I don’t want to be seen before we enter the premises. I want you to go around the back. There’s bound to be an alley leading to their house. Check it’s all clear and leave Frank on guard. Then come back and we’ll go in together.’ She turned to George. ‘You can stay in the car.’

  ‘No. I’m going in with you. You and Matt can deal with Henry and Harriet, and I’ll take care of Tiffany.’

  All she wanted to do was gather Tiffany in her arms and take her away from there. But she had her job to do. She had to trust George.

  ‘Okay. But make sure you keep well back. Leave the heavy stuff to us.’

  Matt and Frank got out of their car and walked briskly to the turning off Dorchester Road and then down to where the alley ran behind the row of houses. They stayed put. After a couple of minutes, Matt reappeared. He looked across at them and nodded.

  ‘Right. Let’s go.’ She jumped out of the car.

  They hurried across the road, careful to keep out of sight. Matt was waiting for them outside number sixty.

  ‘How do you want to play this?’ he asked.

  ‘If the door’s locked, we’ll break in. Then we’ll search the house room by room.’

  They ran along the pavement and up the short path leading to the door of the terraced house. When they got there, she pushed the door, but it was locked. She used her elbow to break the pane of glass in the door and then put her hand in and opened it. She held her finger up to her lips while they listened.

  They crept in. The place was silent. Stealthily, they went into the living room. She let out a small gasp and pointed to the sofa. ‘Tiffany’s bag,’ she whispered. ‘They’re here somewhere.’

  After finding the kitchen empty, they headed up the stairs. They could hear low voices coming from the room at the far end of the hall. She took out her Taser and led, with Matt going second and George behind.

  She swallowed hard as she pressed down on the handle and pushed open the door. ‘Police. Stop what you’re doing. Hands up,’ she shouted as they all piled into the room.

  Oh, God. She was going to be sick.

  The room was chaos. Tiffany was stripped to her underwear, spread-eagled, her wrists and ankles tied to the bed. Her head lolled to one side and her eyes were glazed. Henry was holding up his phone, videoing, and Harriet stood over Tiffany, a beer bottle in her hand. Horror gave way to rage. She could only imagine what was going to be done with the bottle, if they hadn’t got there in time.

  Henry turned his phone towards Whitney, his top lip turned up in a sneer. ‘Smile for the camera.’

  ‘One more warning,’ she snarled. ‘Hands up.’ She turned as George rushed over to Tiffany.

  Henry shrugged and raised his hands. She holstered the Taser and twisted the arm without the plaster cast behind his back, taking hold of the other and cuffing him.

  ‘You too,’ Matt said to Harriet, swiftly taking the bottle and handcuffing her. He pulled out his radio. ‘Assistance required at sixty-six Dorchester Road. Two suspects in custody. Ambulance required.’

  ‘They’re already on their way,’ an officer replied.

  ‘Frank, in here,’ Matt said into his radio.

  ‘Coming,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s okay,’ George said softly, but loud enough for Whitney to here. ‘It’s over.’

  She wasn’t sure if Tiffany understood.

  ‘Scissors. I need scissors,’ George shouted, pulling on the ties around Tiffany’s wrists and ankles.

  Matt passed her his Swiss army knife, and George cut through the ties, sweeping Tiffany into her arms. She took off her coat and put it around her. ‘Where the hell are her clothes?’

  Tiffany didn’t speak. She was just lying all floppy in George’s arms.

  Nausea caught in Whitney’s throat. She swallowed hard and turned back to the twins, her voice like iron.

  ‘Henry Spencer and Harriet Spencer, I’m arresting you both on suspicion of the murders of Millie Carter, Olivia Griffin, Polly Brooks, and Lydia Parker. Also, the abduction and sexual assault on Tiffany Walker. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’

  Henry looked at her. ‘You spoiled my game. If only you’d arrived ten minutes later, it would have been so much more fun.’

  Before she could stop herself, she slapped him hard across the face, leaving finger mark indentations in his cheeks and her palm stinging. He reeled backwards.

  ‘Guv,’ Matt warned.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’ll regret that,’ Henry snarled.

  ‘Do your worst,’ she said, finally able run to the bed and scoop up Tiffany in her arms. Her daughter’s body was limp, but her eyes fluttered, and she let out a soft groan of recognition as her arm snaked around Whitney’s neck.

  ‘I’ll find her clothes.’ George stood up and looked around the bedroom, which was bare
, apart from the bed.

  Frank came bounding up the stairs and into the bedroom.

  ‘Keep your eyes on her,’ Whitney said, nodding at Harriet. ‘Matt, keep hold of him.’

  ‘Guv.’

  As George left the room, she heard the sound of officers coming up the stairs.

  ‘In here,’ she yelled.

  The officers burst in.

  ‘Take them away.’

  She released a sigh of relief as they escorted the twins out of there.

  George came back through the door. ‘Are these Tiffany’s?’

  She nodded and took them from George. They should’ve gone into an evidence bag. Proper police procedure. But she didn’t care. Being a parent came first.

  She removed the coat George had rested over Tiffany and carefully dressed her daughter, like she’d done so many times over the years. Her hands shook.

  Just as she’d finished, two paramedics came into the room. ‘We’ll take it from here,’ one of them said to her. ‘We need to get her to hospital.’

  She glanced down at her daughter, who had her eyes closed and was breathing deeply. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Before you go, I’d like you to take a look at the other bedroom. It won’t take a minute,’ George said.

  ‘Okay.’ She followed her into the bedroom down the hall.

  As she stepped in, an agonising groan escaped her lips. On one of the walls was a huge mural of photos. She moved closer. It comprised all the victims.

  Millie.

  Olivia.

  Poppy.

  Lydia.

  A pictorial view of their crimes. The three of them together, eating, smiling, and having fun. Then, the victim passed out. Next, Harriet stripping them and shots of her tying them up. The rape followed. Then the strangulation. Henry’s hands around the first three, and Harriet’s around the last. All the time smiling for the camera. Finally, shots of each girl lying where they’d dumped the body.

  The nausea threated to rise again. What sort of monsters could do that?