The Yorkshire Dipper

by Maria Frankland

  “Over here,” a female voice gasps. “Please help me.” It’s so weak I don’t recognise it at first, but as I get closer, I realise it’s the voice of my sister.

  “It’s me, Claire.” I tug off my coat and wrap it around her shaking form. I cradle her head, then realise that like mine, it’s oozing blood.

  “He was dragging me to the stream,” she whimpers. “He had his hands around my neck. He was going to drown me, just like he did with Lauren.”

  “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here.” Thank God I got here when I did.

  “I’m not going to die, am I? I feel really strange.” She slumps within my arms and I see her eyes fall closed in the faint light.

  “Claire, stay with me. Do you hear me? Claire! C’mon, c’mon.” I feel for her pulse. It’s faint. I call 999 again. It takes longer to be connected this time. “This is Sergeant Mark Potts,” I gabble into the phone a few seconds later. “Where is the police backup I requested?”

  “It’s on its way Sir. Why haven’t you used your radio for assistance?”

  “I’m off duty and haven’t got my radio. We need two ambulances as well. Please hurry. It’s my sister. She’s been attacked. Badly.”

  “Why do you need two ambulances sir?”

  “Because I’ve got hold of the man responsible. He’s unconscious a few feet away.” I can hear the sirens. I keep my finger on Claire’s pulse. “Don’t you dare leave me sis.” I’ve lost Lauren. I can’t lose my sister too. “They’re here. Can you hear them?” I cradle her head in my lap. I daren’t move.

  I flick the torch on my phone and shine it into the air. “Over here,” I shout as police van doors bang. “Help us.”

  As they’re running towards us through the undergrowth, torches ablaze, the ambulances I’ve requested screech up and two paramedics jump from each.

  “Chris,” I say. “You’ve got to help us. He’s attacked us both. But Claire, my sister, she’s in a bad way.”

  Momentarily Chris stands there, as though rooted to the spot, but then swings into action. “Where is he?”

  I point in the direction I left him. He and Paula head that way and the paramedics gently slide Claire from under me, lighting the space with their torches.

  I stand, going dizzy with the movement as I lurch towards where Paula and Chris stand, flashing their torches all around. “Where is he Mark?” Chris says. “Did you get a look at him?”

  “Ingham.” I forget the pain and dizziness as I get to them. “He’s done this to my sister, my fiancée, and all those other women.”

  Paula gasps. “You’ve got to be joking. D-C-I-Ingham?”

  A few feet away, I can see the paramedics working on Claire. There’s no resuscitation going on which reassures me – they’ll be assessing her so they can move her to the stretcher.

  “Ingham,” Chris echoes. “So where is he?”

  “I’m sure it was here.” I turn a circle, taking the beam of my phone’s torchlight with me, the motion making me dizzy again. There are more police and paramedics running towards us.

  “Sergeant Donaldson, Murton Division,” one of them announces. He looks to where the paramedics are with Claire. “Who are we looking for in relation to this?”

  “DCI Ingham,” Chris replies with a shake in his voice.

  “DCI Ingham. There must be some mis…”

  “I can assure you there isn’t,” I say. “He was here. He beat me around the head with a rock. I managed to get the better of him though. He was out of it. Right here. I can’t understand how he’s managed to get up again.”

  “We’re really hampered here with the darkness,” Paula says, flashing her torchlight around. “Looking for anybody.”

  “We’re not looking for anybody. We are looking for DCI Ingham. He can’t have got far. Is she OK?” I call over. “My sister?” I walk towards them.

  “She’s stable,” calls back one of the paramedics. “Her blood pressure is very low, though, and we need to get her to hospital as soon as we can. Can you come along in the second ambulance?”

  “Yes.” I scan the darkened horizon for a figure trying to slip away in the moonlight. “We need to find Ingham. He was unconscious. He can’t just have got up and walked off.”

  “Are you absolutely sure it was him? It is very dark here,” says Sergeant Donaldson, tugging his radio towards him.

  “Definitely. I’m certain. Do you think I’d make something like that up?”

  “Sergeant Donaldson.” He speaks into his radio. “We need as many units as possible and the dog handlers. We’ve had another serious attack on the cycle path, South West of Alder park.”

  “What is the condition of the victim?”

  “Not sure. She’s with the paramedics and is about to be taken to hospital. I’ve got her brother with me now, Sergeant Mark Potts. He’s also been assaulted and injured.”

  “What information do we have on the perpetrator, sir?”

  “DCI Ingham. North Yorkshire Police. We believe he is responsible for these attacks.”

  “And the others.” I hold my hand out for the radio. “Can I speak to them?”

  “Sergeant Mark Potts,” I say into it. “My sister has been badly attacked by DCI Ingham and I have every reason to believe that he is responsible for the murder of my fiancée a week ago, and all the river deaths.”

  “Do you have evidence for this Sergeant? Did you see…?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Are you off duty, sir?”

  “Yes. But I want to stay here and find him.”

  “A patrol car has been sent and we’ll get to his house once the search is coordinated here. If he’s there, we’ll bring him in.”

  “I can’t imagine he’s got very far. I did the same to him as he did to me with a rock. He was unconscious.”

  Sergeant Donaldson takes his radio back. “I think you need to get that head of yours looked at Mark.”

  “I will.”

  There are vans and flashlights all over the place now as word is spreading about what, or rather who we are looking for.

  “Where are those bloody dog units?” Sergeant Donaldson’s yells.

  “At a suspected hit and run by a drunk driver,” comes the reply from someone in the darkness.

  “Bloody hell.”

  The scene is swimming around me. Claire is still unconscious as the paramedics pass me. “Are you coming with her in the ambulance Mark? She’s stable, but we need to get her to the hospital right now. We’re still not happy with her blood pressure.”

  “I’ll be along as soon as I can,” I say. “I’m going to ring our brother and he’ll meet you there.”

  “I really think you should be looked at Mark.” One of the paramedics with her hands free, shines a light towards my head. “I can see from here that you’re going to need stitches. And there’s the risk of concussion.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be there soon.”

  “You’re a stubborn sod.” Chris turns to the paramedic. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him and I’ll bring him along myself to be checked out shortly.”

  The dispatched patrol car is parked outside DCI Ingham’s house when we get there. As we come to a halt, one of the officers steps out of it.

  “Any sign of him?” asks Sergeant Donaldson.

  “No, Sir.”

  “OK. Get the door forced with the battering ram.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  More units arrive as the officers step up to the door with the ram. Ingham doesn’t stand a chance if he’s here. Paula has patched my head up with the first aid kit as we’ve made our way here. Patrols have been deployed all over town in the search for him and the helicopter is up. Sporadically its beam can be seen from here shining into fields and between trees.

  The door splinters off its hinges with the impact of the ram and two officers run in shouting “Police!”

  As suspected, no one is here. Ingham’s home is what I would expect to find of someone with mental hea
lth problems. Pizza boxes and crockery congealed with food litter the surfaces and floor. But there’s no sign of him. What really strikes me is the noticeboard above his table, filled with the newspaper clippings of articles detailing all the murders he has perpetrated; many of the articles written by Lauren. I hold my phone up and take a photograph.

  “Why would he have done it?” Chris looks shell-shocked. “He’s not wired right. How did he ever get to where he is in the force?”

  “I don’t know,” I take a couple more photos then tuck my phone into my back pocket. “And Lauren knew too. We should move out of here. The forensics will be here soon to do their stuff. We don’t want to contaminate anything.”

  We make our way out into the garden and radio through again. Whilst we’re waiting for an update, Chris shows me the latest news bulletin on his phone.

  Net closes in on corrupt DCI, it says, before telling the story, warning women at the end of the article, not to go out of the house on their own until DCI Ingham is in custody. There’s a large photo of him in the centre of the webpage and underneath, the caption. If you see this man, he may be armed and should not be approached. Instead, call 999 immediately.

  “It won’t be long until we’ve got him,” Chris slips his phone back into his jacket. “How are you feeling, mate? Are you still adamant you don’t want that head looking at?”

  “I will actually,” I concede. “I’m feeling sick and dizzy. It could be concussion or it could just be stress. I’ll get it checked out. And I need to be with Claire.”

  “The entire force is looking for Ingham.” Chris squeezes my shoulder. “If I have to work overnight and all day tomorrow, I promise we’ll get him. But let’s get you seen to first.”

  I lean against Chris as we walk into A&E. I’m not feeling too good at all. The triage nurse helps me onto a trolley, then wheels me into a nursing bay and pulls the curtain around us. “You go,” I tell Chris. “My brother should be here somewhere with Claire. I’ll be fine.”

  The nurse looks at me. “Well, if possible, we do need a next of kin to know where you are. Where would your brother be?”

  “He’ll be with our sister, Claire Potts.” I hold my hand in front of the florescent light that’s hurting my eyes. “She was brought in an hour ago. She’d been attacked on the cycle path. I could do with knowing how she is.”

  “Right. I’ll see what I can find out.” The nurse slips back out of the curtain.

  “Do you want me to wait until your brother gets here?” Chris sits beside me.

  “No, but you could pass me that,” I gesture to the cardboard sick bowl.

  He passes it to me and scoots away with a quick. “Right, that’s my cue to go!”

  I wouldn’t have thought there would be enough inside me to cause so much puke. I’ve barely been eating. I literally turn myself inside out and am still retching into the bowl when the nurse reappears.

  “Oh dear,” she takes it from me and passes me another. “A side effect of concussion, I’m afraid. You did the best thing coming in. We’ll probably keep you overnight for observation.”

  I lean back against the pillows, my head throbbing and my throat burning. But I feel slightly better for throwing up. And I’m not going to argue about being kept in. I feel too ill to go anywhere. “How’s my sister? Have you found her?”

  “Your sister-in-law will be here in a few minutes,” she says. “Can I get you some water?”

  “Yes please.”

  She returns with my water at the same time as Eva arrives. She doesn’t say anything at first. She just sits on the stool Chris vacated and stares at me.

  “Claire?” I ask. “Please tell me she’s OK.”

  “They’re waiting for an intensive care bed.” Eva clasps her hands together and leans forward. “She might have to be moved to a different, more specialised hospital. He’s crushed her windpipe. They’ve had to sedate and intubate her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Resus still. So she’s in the right place.”

  “Where’s Will?”

  “He stayed with the girls.”

  “What’s wrong with him? Why didn’t he come?”

  She looks apologetic. “I told him he should be the one to be here, but all he could say was hospitals give him the heeby-jeebies. I’ve promised to keep him updated.”

  “I want to go to Claire but I can’t move my head.” I feel as useless as I did when I found out what had happened to Lauren.

  “You stay where you are Mark. You look awful. Thank God you got to her when you did.”

  “Cheers.” Trying to smile makes me wince. “If they move her to another hospital, I’m going too.”

  “Have you seen someone yet?” Eva looks knackered. Since Lauren died, she’s obviously been coping with her own grief, whilst looking after the girls.

  I feel guilty. As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll take Alysha back. “I’m just waiting for the consultant. I’ve been told they’ll be keeping me in overnight. Concussion. Anyway, I’m going to be fine – I’m more concerned about Claire.”

  She squeezes my hand. “You lot – you’re fighters. All they’ve really said is that she might have to have an operation,” she says. “For airway stenosis or something. But they’re taking good care of her.”

  “Has she spoken at all? Since they put her in the ambulance? She was barely talking when I first got to her.”

  Eva shakes her head. “They were trying to keep her awake. She was out of it by then though. They’re not sure about her head injuries, there’s a lot of blood, and she’s got a hell of a lot of bruising. Then there’s her windpipe. She’s sedated and intubated now so can’t talk.”

  I’m struggling to keep my eyes open too.

  “Don’t close your eyes Mark. Not with concussion.” Eva nudges me. “You can’t go to sleep.”

  Her voice sounds faraway. I want to drift off and find Lauren wherever she may be. Die and be with her. Then I remember Alysha and my eyelids snap back open. “Have you heard who they’re looking for?” I ask. “I can hardly believe it. I never liked Ingham and suspected him to be unprofessional and inept of late, but I would never have had him down as a killer.”

  “Yes. I can’t believe it.”

  “Does Will know?”

  “Yes, he never really said much. I rushed out of the house after Chris rang. I just wanted to get here. I hope they throw away the key.” Disdain is written all over her face. “I don’t know how your division will hold your heads up after this. I don’t mean you personally, Mark.”

  “We’ll get him. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “You won’t be getting anyone Mark. You’re staying right here.”

  Eva spends the rest of the evening ricocheting between me and my bed in the observation ward and Claire’s in ICU. Mum turns up - having driven for two hours. The sight of her when it is not Christmas, Easter or Mother’s day reiterates how serious things must be. Brenda is hot on her heels, panic etched across her face when she sees me. They take their seats at either side of me.

  Mum does nothing but cry to start with. “I can’t lose any more of my children,” she says over and over. “All this is bringing back what happened with Dean. Even though it was so long ago, something like that never leaves you.”

  She shuts up long enough to drink the tea that Eva brings her. Then the questions begin. “Why was she out on her own? What was she doing by the park? Why haven’t they caught the man yet? Then the best one. How could you have let this happen?

  I feel snappy with her because it’s taken the attack on Claire for Mum to show her face. She should have been here earlier, after what happened to Lauren to support me and Alysha. All I have had from her are text messages, not even a phone call. She has offered to get food delivered and has been checking that I am not alone but I could have done with her, in person, if she really cared. To say she cannot handle this sort of thing after what happened to Dean is not good enough.

  I am thankful that E
va is here to keep Mum and Brenda in some sort of check. Having a weeping, wailing mother and mother-in-law alongside concussion is not much fun, even if they have got every reason to weep and wail.

  I am relieved when they all go back home for the night.

  Chapter Forty Three

  I am absolutely dog tired, but I keep one eye on the news streaming on the little bedside TV screen. The news bulletins report absolutely nothing to suggest we have found DCI Ingham.

  The nurses come in every thirty minutes to flash a light into my eyes.

  “How’s my sister?” I keep asking them. “Can you find out?”

  At 2:00 am, they tell me they have taken her down for emergency surgery. I lay drifting in and out of sleep, willing her to be OK, talking to her inside my head. I remember times together as we were growing up, the fights, the games and the amazing friendship we’ve always had. I’m not a religious man, but I say a few words to him upstairs. “You’ve taken the love of my life,” I whisper into the shadows. “Please, please don’t take my sister.”

  At 4:30 am a nurse appears in the doorway. She pauses, which makes the breath catch in my throat. It is as though she’s steeling herself to impart bad news.

  “I’m one of the nurses from the theatre team.” She steps towards the bed and I try to sit up, wincing with the pain from my head. “I’ve been assisting with the procedure your sister underwent – a craniectomy to relieve the pressure on her brain.”

  “Please tell me she’s OK.” My voice wobbles. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for the nurse not to tell me she’s dead. I would go in Claire’s place. I know it sounds selfish, but I’d be with Lauren again and Alysha would be OK, no matter what. She’s plenty of people to look after her. Will might be a bit of a prat but he would treat Alysha like his own. And there’s Brenda too.