Fatal Promise: A totally gripping and heart-stopping serial-killer thriller

by Angela Marsons

  ‘Guv, like many other things in this case, it makes no sense.’

  Sense or not, those were the facts.

  ‘She let him in, maybe to talk about something, things got physical but she left of her own accord, with her handbag and whatever else, and locked the door securely behind her. Just like with Cordell.’

  ‘But she didn’t tidy up so that means…’

  ‘She’s scared, Bryant. The woman must be terrified.’

  ‘But where the hell is she?’ he asked.

  Kim crossed the room at speed.

  ‘Follow me, Bryant. I think I might have the answer.’

  Fifty-Six

  ‘Have you found her?’ Mrs Ryan asked, as she opened the door.

  Stacey shook her head quickly, extinguishing the hope and excitement from her eyes. Stacey wished she was here with better news.

  ‘Please, please, come in,’ she said, stepping aside. ‘Philip went back to work this morning but I couldn’t,’ she explained. ‘He can’t stand sitting around not knowing where to look next, and I can’t bear the thought of leaving the house in case she comes back and I’m not here.’

  The tears filled her eyes as she sat in the same spot as the other day. And then she stood again. ‘I’m sorry, can I get you?…’

  ‘I’m fine, Mrs Ryan, please sit down,’ Stacey said, quietly trying to calm the woman’s nervous energy. ‘I just wanted to let you know where we’re at.’

  Mrs Ryan sat down and nodded.

  ‘We’ve spoken to Emma, who had a fight with Jessie on Sunday night.’

  ‘A fight?’ she asked, dumbfounded. ‘It got physical?’

  Stacey decided she deserved the truth.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Ryan. There is footage of Emma slapping Jessie.’

  ‘She hit my daughter?’ the woman asked, enraged.

  Stacey nodded.

  Mrs Ryan stood. ‘That little slutty bitch actually struck my child?’ she asked.

  Stacey hid her surprise at the venom spewing out of the woman’s mouth. Bad enough were the names she was calling a fifteen-year-old girl but the vitriol attached to the names was disturbing.

  ‘I’m sure it was nothing more than a spat, Mrs Ryan. She—’

  ‘What did she do to my child? Did the little cow punch her or?…’

  ‘It was a single slap,’ Stacey explained wondering why she was feeling the need to defend Emma Weston. ‘Just an argument that got heated. All best friends have them,’ she said.

  ‘Friends don’t hit each other,’ Mrs Ryan said, pacing. ‘And this coincidentally happened on the night my child disappeared.’

  ‘Yes, coincidentally,’ Stacey agreed.

  ‘And what did she have to say for herself?’ Ms Ryan asked.

  ‘That she was trying to stop Jessie from going round to her boyfriend’s house.’

  The woman’s face turned ashen.

  ‘B-boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Ryan, Jessie did have a boyfriend, named Dale Jones,’ Stacey said. ‘Seems like a decent kid. A year older than Jessie but it wasn’t anything serious.’

  Mrs Ryan’s eyes held a question.

  Stacey shook her head. ‘He says they didn’t have sex, and I believe him.’

  The relief on her face was short-lived. ‘So, did he see her Sunday night? Was he the last?…’

  ‘I don’t think Jessie ever got there. They hadn’t planned to meet and he insists he never saw her.’

  ‘And you believe him?’ she asked, incredulously.

  Stacey thought about the kid standing on the doorstep with the game controller in his hand. Her copper’s instinct had not reacted to him at all.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  Mrs Ryan frowned, ‘So, where did Jessie go?’

  ‘That’s exactly what we’re trying to find out. She left Emma’s house but never arrived at Dale’s and unfortunately there’s not a lot of CCTV in between.’

  ‘So, how are you?…’

  ‘We’ve circulated Jessie’s photo, which will be shown at every possible briefing until we find her. I promise you she will not be forgotten.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mrs Ryan said, reaching across and touching her hand.

  ‘Now, Mrs Ryan, can we talk about Jessie’s health. I need to know just how poorly she is.’

  Mrs Ryan nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Where do I start? My poor daughter has been through so much. Her problems started when she was just a couple of months old.’ She smiled, sadly. ‘Just like any new mum I would sit and watch her for hours, marvelling at the miracle she was. I would count the seconds between her breaths to make sure they were regular and even. And then one night her chest just didn’t rise. I thought I was imagining it but I was right. I called an ambulance and luckily I knew how to do CPR.

  ‘She was breathing by the time they arrived. They were wonderful. Took us to the hospital so Jessie could be checked over.

  ‘The doctors found nothing wrong, which was both a huge relief as well as terrifying. I was so grateful there was nothing wrong with her and just one of those things, but terrified that without a diagnosis and treatment it would happen again. And, of course it did.’

  ‘How many times?’ Stacey asked, wondering what this woman had gone through every time her child had stopped breathing.

  ‘Too many to count,’ she said. ‘Jessie seemed to grow out of it by the time she was around 18 months. I crossed each night off the calendar without an episode until we reached two months, then three months and eventually six months. I was ecstatic. I actually felt I could breathe properly. Enjoy my life again. And then the stomach cramps started. Agonising pains that doubled her over. Back to the hospital we went for more tests.’

  Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘She never had the childhood I’d hoped for. We were bounced from hospital to doctor to specialist with contradictory diagnoses. More tests. Sometimes it seems that her whole life has been lived in a hospital room. I knew most of the staff by their first name. They were wonderful, always making sure I was okay when it wasn’t even me that was ill.’

  ‘But there were a few years when her health seemed to improve,’ Stacey observed.

  ‘I stopped taking her,’ Mrs Ryan admitted. ‘Seeing the constant fear on her face almost killed me, so I tried holistic methods and put her on an additive-free organic diet, and her health began to improve. She put on weight and had a growth spurt. It was unbelievable how she blossomed. And then two years ago our world came crashing down when Justin, Jessie’s younger brother, died…’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,’ Stacey said, sincerely.

  She wiped away the tears before continuing, though more formed immediately. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And then soon afterwards Jessie began to complain of chest pains and I couldn’t ignore that. They’ve done all kinds of tests, which have been inconclusive, and Jessie keeps begging me to let her be, but I can tell when she’s having trouble, and how can I ignore chest pains? She’s my child. I have to do what’s best for her.’

  The woman was openly crying now, the tears spilling out of her eyes and over her cheeks.

  She looked so lost, forlorn sitting in the middle of the sofa, terrified.

  Stacey couldn’t help the compassion that surged through her.

  She took a seat beside the woman and took her hand. ‘Everything will be okay, Mrs Ryan,’ she said tapping her palm.

  ‘I can’t lose another one,’ she sobbed, turning to Stacey for comfort.

  Stacey’s arms went around her.

  ‘Please bring her back. Promise me that you will.’

  Tears stung her own eyes. ‘I will, Mrs Ryan, I promise.’

  Mrs Ryan cried out, a strangled sound drenched with desperation, and Stacey simply held her while she wept.

  ‘That’s why I can’t stand the thought of that no good little bitch striking my child,’ she explained, through sobs. ‘My girl has been through enough.’

  ‘I understand, I really—’ Stacey’s words were cut off by the sud
den sound of forceful knocking on the front door.

  ‘Let me get that,’ she said, using the opportunity to extricate herself from the distraught woman.

  The door had barely opened an inch when a woman started trying to barge in the door.

  ‘Okay, Kerry, this is what—’

  Stacey’s instinct had been to block access with her arm across the doorway.

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. ‘Who are you?’

  Stacey was prevented from answering as Mrs Ryan appeared at her side. ‘It’s okay, officer. This is my neighbour, Cath.’

  Stacey stood aside as the woman entered, her pudgy arms clutching a folder to her bosom.

  She walked straight over to the dining table and began to lay out her papers.

  ‘Okay, Shaz at number ten is working up a Facebook page to send out an appeal. She’s already done a twittering page and started tagging local groups, whatever that means,’ she said, shrugging. ‘The twins at number six are setting up a story on Instasomething, and I’ve printed off some photos for shop windows. Lewis and Denny from twenty-seven are gonna hang around Merry Hill and see if she turns up there and—’

  A single sob broke free from Mrs Ryan as a look of gratitude and almost pleasure washed over her face. One more sniff and the tears were gone.

  ‘Oh, Cath…’ Mrs Ryan said as the neighbour ambled towards her.

  Right now, Stacey realised, they were both grateful for Cath’s arrival.

  Stacey began to step away as Cath enfolded Mrs Ryan in a hug.

  ‘We’ll find her, Kerry. I promise,’ she said.

  With nothing further to add, Stacey slipped unnoticed from the house.

  Fifty-Seven

  ‘Stop the car,’ Kim screamed.

  ‘Guv, it’s a main bloody road,’ Bryant said.

  She began opening the passenger door.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he cried, slamming on the brakes. Horns sounded on the main road that ran to the east side of Cedars Retirement Home, drawing attention from everyone around, including the petite brunette on the single wooden bench.

  Kim had guessed Nat Mansell would want to be close to where her mother had been. She was running scared, which always led you to seek out the people that made you feel safe. Except Nat Mansell’s mother had been murdered on the other side of that wall.

  Kim dodged the people on the pavement as Bryant drove away to find somewhere to park the car.

  The woman on the bench had risen and was looking in her direction. Her posture appeared startled and wary.

  ‘Please, wait,’ Kim called as the woman reached for her handbag. Why was Nat Mansell avoiding her if she’d done nothing wrong?

  Kim guessed there were about fifty metres between them, and she prayed that the woman stayed where she was.

  Nat looked around and then began hurrying away at speed.

  Kim quickened her pace as stabbing pains shot through her shin. She couldn’t remember all of the bone doctor’s instructions but she was pretty sure no running was a given.

  ‘Miss Mansell, wait, please,’ Kim called, breaking into a trot.

  She had hoped Bryant was coming from another angle to try and cut her off, but his car was still at the end of the road, stuck on a red light.

  Damn it, she cursed as the woman’s steps took her ever nearer to the housing estate at the edge of the grass.

  Kim forced her legs to pick up speed focussing on the power in her thighs instead of the agony in her shin.

  ‘Wait,’ she called, having made ground on the distance between them.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Nat called out before picking up speed.

  ‘I just want to talk,’ Kim called, matching her speed so the distance between them didn’t widen.

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘Miss Mansell, Nat, just give me a minute,’ Kim called. ‘I need to talk to you about Cordell.’

  ‘Just leave me alone,’ she repeated, and Kim could now hear the emotion in her voice.

  This woman was scared.

  ‘I’m a police officer. I can help,’ Kim said, having taken a few metres out of the space.

  ‘No one can help me,’ she cried.

  Kim felt the pain turn to lightning strikes shooting down to her ankle and right up to her thigh but she had to push past it.

  She needed to talk to this woman. Now.

  Seeing that she was almost at the road that would take her beyond Kim’s reach, she stopped and turned. She held up her hand.

  ‘Don’t come any closer or I’ll run, I swear.’

  Kim stopped running, and cried out at the agony thundering through her bone.

  She swallowed away the stars that threatened her vision.

  ‘Were you having an affair with Cordell?’ Kim called out.

  She nodded. ‘We were in love,’ she called back.

  Lilith Cordell hinted her husband was a serial adulterer but it appeared this fling had been more serious.

  ‘You know who killed him, don’t you, Miss Mansell?’

  She shook her head, looking stricken.

  ‘Is it the same person who killed your mother?’ Kim asked, trying to remain upright.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ the woman said, as Kim felt herself buckling to the ground. Her left leg muscles screamed and it felt like they were detaching themselves from the bone.

  Kim could see the indecision all over her face. The woman was a nurse.

  ‘Please,’ Kim shouted. ‘Tell me…’

  ‘I can’t, I’m sorry,’ she called out, backing away. ‘I can’t help you. I’m so sorry but I made a choice and now I’ve got to live with it.’

  And suddenly she was gone but Kim had no idea where as a black veil of darkness lowered and covered her eyes.

  Fifty-Eight

  ‘Guv, guv, wake up. Guv, come on,’ Kim heard before she opened her eyes.

  It took her a moment to realise where she was. The discomfort of the damp grass beneath her was trumped by the knife being run up and down her left leg. She groaned as she tried to sit up.

  ‘Stay there,’ Bryant said, steadying her and putting his jacket around her shoulders.

  The April morning sun was warm on her face but her body was shivering uncontrollably.

  ‘It’s the shock, guv,’ Bryant said. ‘You’ve pushed your leg too hard. You need to be checked—’

  ‘Bryant, tell me that siren in the distance isn’t for me?’ she said, looking around for the blue lights.

  ‘I may have accidentally called it in.’

  ‘What, you fell over and landed on the 999 button?’ she asked, cuttingly.

  ‘Yeah, that was exactly it,’ he said as a first responder pulled off the main road and onto the grass.

  ‘Now, if you’d tried that manoeuvre, Bryant, I might have c-caught her,’ she said as a violent shudder coursed through her.

  ‘Whatever,’ he said as the first responder approached.

  An ambulance pulled up behind the responder’s vehicle. Two paramedics jumped out with a stretcher.

  ‘Hell, no,’ she raged and then looked at her colleague. ‘Bloody hell, Bryant.’

  ‘I don’t decide who comes. I just made the call,’ he said as his phone rang. ‘Woody,’ he said taking a step away.

  ‘You called the boss?’ she asked, incredulously.

  ‘Yeah, got bored waiting for you to wake up,’ he said, answering the call.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked the paramedic as he kneeled on the grass.

  ‘Well, it ain’t Usain Bolt, is it?’ she snapped.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Kim Stone,’ she answered.

  ‘And where are you?’ he asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

  ‘Sitting on a field in the middle of bloody Tividale being gawped at like a circus animal,’ she said, nodding towards the onlookers gathering around the edge of the field.

  ‘Did you hit your head?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what exactly happened?�
��

  ‘Stupid mistake, moved too fast, leg gave way, passed out but I’m fine now. Plaster came off a few days ago,’ she explained, pointing to her left leg.

  He frowned before moving around to her left-hand side. ‘Did the doctor not explain?…’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ she said, holding up her hand. ‘I am solely responsible for this level of stupidity,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Bryant confirmed after ending the call. ‘And Woody wants you either at the hospital or back at the station. Preferably the hospital but…’

  ‘Actually, you can blame him for some of it. If he’d got the car closer…’

  ‘This may hurt a bit,’ said the paramedic as he placed both hands at the top of her knee.

  She looked at him questioningly.

  ‘Just checking everything is where it should be,’ he said, flatly, as the two guys with the stretcher arrived.

  ‘Thanks guys, but I won’t be needing—’

  ‘They’re staying,’ said the first responder.

  ‘Seriously, go help some sick person,’ she protested, deeply disturbed by the resources being used because she’d tried to run.

  They made no move to retreat and stood behind the first responder.

  ‘Bryant, tell ’em I’m fine.’

  ‘They won’t listen to either of you,’ said the first responder as his gloved hands moved down her leg.

  ‘I’m sure there are people that need their… aargh…’ she cried out as his hands squeezed around her shin.

  ‘I did mention it might hurt,’ he said, without flinching.

  As his hands moved away from the break spot she breathed a sigh of relief. He took a pupilometer from his medical bag and shone it in both of her eyes. She was reminded of the scenes from the film Men in Black.

  ‘Okay, I’ve forgotten everything. I never saw a thing. You can let me go now,’ she joked in an effort to show him she was fine.

  ‘She’s Perrl,’ he said, over his shoulder.

  ‘I’m what?’ she asked.

  ‘Pupils are equal, round and reactive to light,’ he answered, placing his pen light back in his bag.