Bone Dancer

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  The DCI nodded. “Well, it would fit with your psychologist friend’s assessment…”

  “It would.”

  “Yvonne. I hate to put pressure on you.” He sighed. “However, I need something more concrete, ASAP.”

  Yvonne looked at him, her eyes unblinking. “I understand. We’ll do everything we can to get it. I’ve got a great team. This won’t defeat us for long.”

  “BBC Wales will be here tomorrow to film Wyn’s reconstruction of the second victim.”

  She nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

  “A little delicate, are we?” Dewi grinned at her, his eyes twinkling.

  “Yeah. Hilarious, Dewi.” She scowled at him. “I’d like to see you try holding it together with the DCI, when you’re sick as a dog. I think twenty people invaded my head for a rave party.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look pale.” Dewi chuckled. “Here take some of this. It’ll do you good.” He handed her a coffee mug.

  “Thanks. Sorry. I’ve been a right old grouch this morning. I’ll be better when my head has cleared.”

  “You shouldn’t be a dirty stop out,” he said, winking at her.

  She poked her tongue out. “How’s the grandkids, anyway?”

  “Good, but manic. Into everything and still needing their bottoms wiped far too often. I can’t complain, though. They’re only little once. George starts big school next month.”

  “Gosh, that’s flown by.”

  “Tell me about it.” Dewi shook his head. “Anyway, what did the DCI say?”

  “He wants us to get a move on with this case. Not that he needs to ask. We do this for the victims.” She put a hand to her forehead. “Wyn should have a reconstruction of the Dolforwyn victim for us later today. It’ll be on national TV by tomorrow night. Finger’s crossed we get an identity soon.”

  11

  Katie Denham

  Yvonne knocked on the door of Wyn’s studio and waited for him to cease work and let her in. She waited almost a minute and was about to leave.

  A wavy-haired head appeared inch-by-inch around the door.

  “Have I come at a bad time?” She grimaced, stepping back.

  “No. No, not at all.” He opened the door wider. “You’ve picked a good time, actually. I have something for you.”

  She cast her eyes around the room, and to the centre of the main workbench. “You’ve finished.”

  “Meet the girl from Dolforwyn.” He bowed exaggeratedly. “I hope you approve.”

  “Wow.” Yvonne crossed over to examine the likeness. “She’s beautiful, just like the first victim.” She took in the high cheekbones, blonde hair, and fine features. “You’ve done an amazing job, Wyn. She’s looking at me as though she knows things. Things, I don’t.” The DI pursed her lips.

  Wyn tilted his head to one side. “Well, that’s true. I mean, she knows the identity of her killer and…”

  “I don’t. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “I didn’t mean-”

  She held a hand up. “Don’t sweat it. It’s true.”

  “The hairstyle is an approximation.” He scratched his chin, the lines deepening on his forehead. “I’ve put it in a bun, but I’ve photographed it both up and down. The hair they found was a matted mess. The ribbon in it suggests she wore it up.”

  “Someone will recognise her from this, Wyn, I’m sure. You’ve excelled yourself again.”

  “Thank you. You know, I thought you were avoiding me.” Wyn took a step closer to her.

  “Avoiding? Oh, no. I’ve been busy the last couple of days. Our DCI is desperate for a breakthrough. His patience is wearing thin and I can’t say I blame him. BBC Wales are coming to film your work tomorrow afternoon. Are you ready?”

  “Sure am.” He cast his eyes around his studio.

  “It’s okay. They won’t be looking at any mess.” She smiled. “Just your artistry.”

  “Can I see you later?” he asked, looking at his bare feet. He wiggled his toes. “See? I’m prepared.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you remember what I said when I’d had a few.”

  “Totally.” He pouted, holding his palms up, as though asking how she could doubt him.

  She thought about the DCI and the press conference the following day. “I’d better not, Wyn. Sorry to let you down, but we have an early start tomorrow and I need to have my thoughts straight.”

  “Does that mean I get your thoughts all muddled up?” He winked at her.

  She cleared her throat. “Not at all.” Her smile suggested, ‘maybe’.

  "We’ve got a name." Dewi fast-paced to her desk. "A Susan Denham has been in touch to say she believes the Dolforwyn Castle victim is her daughter, Katie Denham." Dewi checked his notes. "Disappeared a year ago, aged nineteen."

  “Where from?”

  “Welshpool, ma’am.” He handed her his notebook.

  “How soon can we get confirmation that she is Katie?”

  “They've taken Blood samples from mum for DNA analysis. In the meantime, she handed in these.” He tossed several photographs onto the DI’s desk.

  Yvonne flicked through. “This one. That’s the-”

  “The yellow smiley-face t-shirt she was wearing the day she went missing.”

  “All right, Dewi. This is great, but we can’t go public until we get the DNA results. Please tell Mrs Denham that we'll be in touch as soon as we are sure. Tell her I would like to speak to her, anyway.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Even if our victim is not her daughter, we should still investigate Katie's disappearance. It could be related. I’m surprised this case wasn’t higher on police radar already."

  “I think it would have been if Katie hadn’t had a history of disappearing.”

  “Running away?”

  “Twice, according to Mrs Denham. Her daughter liked her independence. She spent two months back-packing around Europe with friends, before she disappeared. She hadn't told her family she was going.”

  Yvonne frowned. “How do you know all this?”

  Dewi grinned. “I read the file.”

  “Okay. Well, inform me the minute those DNA results come back.”

  “Will do, ma’am.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to talk, Mrs Denham.”

  “You can call me Susan.” Mrs Denham stood back to allow the detective into her hallway.

  Yvonne cast a quick glance over everything. She pointed to the photographs on the wall of the hallway. Vibrant photographs, framed in black. “Your daughter was a beautiful and lively girl, Susan. I am so sorry for your loss.”

  “Come into the sitting room.” Susan led her through a doorway and pointed to a suede couch. “Please, take a seat.”

  Yvonne took out her notebook, one eye taking in the porcelain cat collection on the sideboard.

  Small in stature, Susan’s hunched shoulders made her look smaller still. Her fading hair, only just tamed by the loose band attempting a ponytail.

  “She was a free spirit. The number of times I warned her that she needed to take care and that the world could be a dangerous place. She said I was a smother mother. I expect she got that phrase from the kids in school.”

  “Teenage tantrums?”

  “She never forgave me for upping sticks.”

  “You moved?”

  Susan Denham nodded. “Until she was seventeen, we lived in Church Stretton. She was in school there.”

  Yvonne stared at her. “Church Stretton School?”

  "Yes. Her father and I split up. I moved away. Katie came with me. But, she had wanted to stay put…”

  Yvonne tilted her head. "She wanted to remain with her father?"

  “No, not that. Katie preferred to live with me. She wanted to stay in Church Stretton.” Susan stared at her shoes. “Thought she was in love with one of her teachers. She was doing ‘A’ levels and her work was suffering. I thought it healthier for us both to move. That’s when we came to Welshpool.”
>
  Yvonne stared at her. “Which teacher?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Who was the teacher? Can you remember?”

  "Oh, um… May… Mayton…"

  “Maynard?”

  “Yes, Maynard. She always referred to him as Craig. It was Craig Maynard. His wife helped run a riding stables. Katie had had lessons there.”

  “Do you mean Rosie?” Yvonne edged forward in her seat, leaning in towards Susan.

  “I don’t recall the woman’s name. Could have been Rosie. Katie hadn’t had many lessons before we moved. She had a few more at a local stables but decided that riding wasn’t for her. She preferred her own two feet.”

  “Did she get on with Rosie?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “What happened after you moved here?”

  “She completed her ‘A’ levels at Welshpool High and then took off for three months back-packing around Europe. Didn’t tell me where she was until weeks after she’d left. It worried me sick. I had hoped she might go to college, but she said she didn’t want student debt hanging over her.”

  “Was she trying to find herself?” Yvonne asked, her voice soft.

  “Yes, I guess she was.”

  “What happened when she disappeared? I checked the police files, and it seems we didn't categorise it as a ‘missing and at risk’ case.”

  “That was my fault.” Susan sighed. “They asked me if she’d run away before. I said yes and admitted she may have gone travelling again. Katie had taken her purse, coat and mobile in a small rucksack. She’d talked about another walking tour on the continent. I thought she might have done that.”

  “But, you didn’t hear from her.”

  “I was getting more concerned. I spoke to her father several times. He hadn’t heard from her. I contacted missing persons charities and they could find no trace. They said people sometimes just want to disappear. I blamed myself. I felt guilty about moving her to Welshpool.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known.”

  “I still don’t believe she’s gone.” Tears welled in Susan’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry to ask you a further question, but did you ever contact Church Stretton School or the teacher, Craig Maynard? Find out if she had contacted them? It might help to know where she was when she disappeared.”

  “I contacted the school. They said they'd had no contact from her. The day she left, she told me she was going hiking along the Kerry Ridgeway. She wasn't sure whether she’d be back that night. She gave me a kiss and told me she loved me. I told her to be careful. I didn't see her again.”

  “Was she going with someone?”

  “As far as I know, she was going alone.”

  Tears ran down Susan Denham’s cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry.” Yvonne put an arm around the other woman’s shoulder. “Can I get you anything? Victim liaison officers will be back soon. Would you like me to call anyone else?”

  Susan shook her head. “I want to be alone for a bit. I hope you understand.”

  Yvonne nodded. She was having her own battle with tears.

  As she left, the DI set her face against the wind, more determined than ever to catch the devil behind the deaths.

  12

  Common Denominator

  Raised voices and the sound of something smashing against a wall greeted Yvonne and Dewi, on their arrival at Craig and Rosie’s place.

  “Domestic?” Yvonne ran down the garden and banged on the door, pursued by her DS.

  Dewi put his ear to it. “Sounds like they’re arguing.”

  It was several minutes before Craig appeared. He tucked a flap of shirt back into his trousers.

  “Police. We’d like to talk to you.” Dewi announced.

  “I know what this looks like.” Craig ran a hand through his hair and stepped back to allow them to enter.

  “We heard smashing crockery. Is anybody hurt?” Yvonne asked, as Rosie appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  Craig shook his head. “Just an argument. We’re both okay.”

  Yvonne pursed her lips. “We want to ask you a few questions. Will that be all right?”

  Craig nodded. “Sure.” His hand shook as he closed the front door behind them.

  “Under the circumstances, I think it best if we speak to you in separate rooms.” Yvonne walked towards Rosie. “Is that okay?”

  Rosie turned back into the kitchen.

  Craig led Dewi into the lounge.

  “What was that about?” Dewi asked. He closed the lounge door.

  “This and that. Everything. We're always arguing.”

  “Over what?”

  “She says I’m irritating.”

  “For doing what?”

  “Breathing?” Craig sighed.

  “Who smashed the mug?”

  Craig shook his head.

  “You can get help. Have you ever considered counselling?”

  “Did somebody call you? A neighbour?” Craig spat the words.

  “No.” Dewi took out his notebook. “We came here to ask you about a girl you used to teach. A girl called Katie. Katie Denham.”

  Craig frowned. “Katie Denham? I don’t understand. You’re the officers investigating the death of Nicole Benoit-”

  “That’s right.”

  “How is that related to Katie Denham?”

  “Did you see the news this morning?”

  Craig shook his head. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “We confirmed the identity of remains left at a local landmark.”

  Craig’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide.

  “I understand you taught Katie. We’re contacting those who knew her. Those who could shed light on her last movements.”

  “Are you asking all her former teachers? I don’t understand. Katie left our school years ago. Her schooling carried on elsewhere.”

  “That's right.” Dewi nodded.

  “Then, why?”

  “Mrs Denham said Katie had a crush on you. We wondered if she might have contacted you before disappearing?”

  “Wait, what do you mean disappearing? You mean she went missing? Like Nicole?”

  “She did. They thought it possible she'd gone travelling, without telling her mum.”

  “When was that? When did she leave?” Craig frowned.

  “Last summer.”

  “Last summer…” He rubbed his chin, eyes half-closed. “No. She didn't contact me.”

  “What about your wife? As I understand it, she used to attend your wife’s riding school.”

  “She didn't speak to Rosie, as far as I am aware. She’d had riding lessons with Rosie, before she and her mother moved away from Church Stretton. I’m not aware of her having any more after they left.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?” Yvonne’s eyes wandered over the shards of mug scattered on the floor, its contents streaked down the kitchen wall.

  “I was angry.” Rosie coloured.

  “Why?”

  “He’s never here.” She exhaled with a loud puff. “Once upon a time, I couldn't get him from under my feet. A regular home-bird. Now? He's never in.”

  “Would it help to talk to someone? The two of you? Or, just you? There are excellent counselling services available. We could send you details.”

  “We won't last much longer.” Rosie sighed. “As for counselling? We don't have the will.”

  “It might save your marriage.” Yvonne tilted her head, trying to make contact with Rosie’s downcast eyes.

  “That's the point.”

  “We didn’t come here about your argument.” Yvonne pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table. “Do you mind?”

  “Help yourself.” Rosie grabbed another. “I could do with sitting down.”

  “Do you remember a girl called Katie Denham?” Yvonne took out her pocketbook.

  “Katie Denham?” Rosie wrinkled her nose in concentration. “Katie… Katie… Wait,
is she the girl who moved to Welshpool? Blonde girl. Tall.”

  "That's the one." Yvonne handed her a photograph. "I understand she had lessons at your riding school. She left Church Stretton three years ago when her parents separated."

  “What has that to do with us? Wait, he wasn’t… Was he?”

  Yvonne held up a hand. “Not that we are aware. We are talking to all her associates. We want to establish her movements before she disappeared.”

  “She disappeared?”

  Yvonne nodded. “Someone murdered her. We found the remains and believe someone abducted her. What we haven’t established, yet, is a timeline of events. If you can help, we'd be grateful.”

  “I see.” Rosie frowned. “She didn’t come to the riding school after she left Church Stretton.”

  “Did she want to?”

  Rosie snorted. “Oh, I daresay she did.” She folded her arms.

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “We had words on her last visit. I gave her a few home truths.”

  “What were the words about, Rosie?”

  “It wasn’t the riding she was interested in.”

  “What do you mean?” Yvonne wanted to hear it from her.

  “Well, it was a way of keeping contact with my husband on weekends. When she couldn’t see him in school.”

  “She had a crush?”

  “Did she have a crush?” Rosie sneered, spitting the words. “The word besotted comes to mind. Couldn’t keep away. She must have thought I was stupid; that I wouldn’t guess what she was after, wandering around all doe-eyed, every time he turned up.”

  “Was your husband aware?”