Cold Comfort (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite Book 5)

by Rebecca King

  COLD

  COMFORT

  A New Adventure Begins – Star Elite

  Book Five

  by

  REBECCA KING

  © 2019 by Rebecca King

  The moral right of R L King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  UNREQUITED LOVE

  MISS FLORENTINE’S SCHOOL FOR INVESTIGATORS

  HIS DEADLY CLEMENTINE

  DUTY OR DISHONOUR

  MURDER AT HYNDE HOUSE

  THE LOCAL HEROES SERIES (STAR ELITE)

  TUPPENCE

  OTHER BOOKS BY REBECCA KING

  CHAPTER ONE

  A wild wind tugged relentlessly at the thick material of Oliver’s cloak as he dismounted his horse. He shivered and yanked the material up to his ears only for the wind to snatch it back down again. With a grunt of disgust, he threw a dour look at his friend and colleague, Rhys, and gave up.

  “It’s through there,” Rhys muttered with a nod to the trees beside them.

  Oliver studied the narrow break in the trees with little enthusiasm. It wasn’t the path that concerned him. It was what lay beyond; the reason he had been hauled out of bed at an ungodly hour of the morning, and in the middle of a storm as well.

  “Brace yourself,” Rhys murmured when Oliver passed him.

  Oliver lifted his brows and hesitated. “Is it that bad?”

  The grim look on Rhys’s face was so uncharacteristically solemn that Oliver knew instantly what lay ahead must be worse than usual.

  “Jesus,” Oliver hissed through teeth that were clenched partly because of the need to stop them rattling, and partly because of the sight that greeted him when he broke through the small copse of trees.

  A heavy pall hung over the men who were already gathered around the partially buried corpse. They all turned to greet him when Oliver ambled closer but aside from the brief acknowledgement of Oliver’s presence, nobody spoke for several minutes. Instead, they all looked down at the small mound of soil at their feet, and the body that was partially buried within it.

  “Who found her?” Oliver asked of Harry. “And when?”

  Harry took a deep breath to speak only to immediately step back but only so he could breathe deeply and clear his lungs of the fetid stench of rotting human corpse. While Harry dealt with trying to keep his breakfast, Oliver lifted his brows at the man standing on the opposite side of the make-shift grave.

  “Farmer Quigley found her,” Ryan reported. “He is throwing up in the trees as well. Phillip is keeping an eye on him. A villager mentioned to him that they saw someone up here yesterday. Farmer Quigley decided to come up here to make sure a sheep rustler hadn’t helped himself to his flock.” He nodded to a small herd huddled against the farthest corner of the adjacent field. “Anyway, Farmer Quigley came through these trees and found her lying here like this.”

  “He found the mound of soil,” Oliver murmured.

  “Nope. He found her partially buried.”

  Oliver lifted his brows in surprise. “She was found like this? Farmer Quigley hasn’t dug her up?”

  Rhys shook his head. “Whoever left her here didn’t bother to bury her properly. He was either disturbed by someone or didn’t have the time or couldn’t be bothered. We don’t know.”

  “Maybe whoever dumped her wanted her to be found,” Oliver murmured thoughtfully.

  Oliver studied the village nestled in the valley a quarter of a mile away. The stubby square tower of the old Norman church pointed to Heaven, the only protrusion amidst the small, sleepy rural village where he suspected nothing much ever happened. Several houses overlooked the bluff they were on, and many people would be able to see, if they cared to look, whoever was up here.

  “Do you know something? I can distinctly remember standing in a spot very similar to this not so long ago,” Oliver murmured, more to himself than anybody else.

  “That young girl, Felicity Inson, who was murdered several months back, was found in this very field,” Niall confirmed.

  “Do you think we have a serial killer in our midst?” Phillip asked quietly when he re-joined the group. “Do you think that it might be possible that one or two of the young women who were kidnapped managed to get away? Might it be possible that they were taken to London and escaped but the killer found them and brought them back here where he murdered them? Should we be looking for a serial killer not a kidnapper?”

  “No. We are still looking for kidnappers,” Oliver confirmed. “It is highly unlikely a murderer would kidnap someone and feed them to keep them alive for several weeks before he murdered them. The women were kidnapped for a reason. We just don’t know what that reason is yet. We know who the suspects are, though.”

  Nobody disagreed.

  “Where is the farmer now?” Oliver asked, looking around the group.

  “Still losing his breakfast in the trees.” Harry moved until he was as upwind from the stench, and mentally heaved a sigh of relief when his lungs began to clear, and his sickness eased enough for him to be able to talk freely.

  Oliver scowled at the body. “Felicity Inson wasn’t kidnapped. She lived around here and was murdered the day she vanished. Unless I am mistaken, this here is one of the missing women who was kidnapped several months ago. I believe that the last sighting of her was in London.”

  “So, why would he – they – kill one and not the other?” Will murmured thoughtfully.

  “The fact that she didn’t disappear doesn’t mean Felicity was killed by someone different. For some reason, the killer who has kidnapped the other women changed his mind about kidnapping Felicity and killed her instead. We just don’t know why yet.” Oliver scratched at his aching head and struggled to stem the tide of frustration that surged through him.

  “Is it possible that Felicity struggled and created a huge ruckus when the kidnapper tried to snatch her, so he killed her? Maybe he murdered her when he realised that he couldn’t snatch her quietly like he had the others?” Phillip suggested.

  High atop the bluff, nobody from the village would hear a young woman scream if she was accosted and there was a struggle.

  “So, we know now that Felicity was not killed by another killer, but the same person who has been kidnapping young women. We also know that our fiend likes to dump his victims’ bodies here for whatever reason, presumably because he knows they are likely to be found.” Harry placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “What we don’t know is why our kidnapper has decided to kil
l this victim. I mean, why now? Why her? Why leave her here and connect himself to another murder several months ago?”

  “Because he knows we cannot catch him,” Oliver growled, his voice rife with frustration. “He knows we don’t have anything on him that will bring him to justice. He has been operating for several months and we have yet to catch him.”

  “I hate these bloody cat and mouse games. We are always second-guessing everything,” Ryan snarled suddenly, his voice rife with disgust.

  “Do you think the Rigley Row mob have anything to do with the murders? Is it possible the women are being killed in retaliation for us closing down their operation in Rigley Row? I mean, if there is nowhere for the blackguards to keep them, maybe their victims have to die?” Niall sighed heavily and waited.

  “I wish we knew,” Oliver replied.

  They all knew that the gangs who lived and ran their criminal operations from Rigley Row, a particularly dangerous part of London’s backstreets, were involved in the kidnapping of several young women from Leicestershire and Derbyshire. That had been established not long after the last of the women had been snatched because the young women had appeared in London and had been identified by the Star Elite. However, when Rigley Row had been raided several weeks ago, not all the kidnap victims had been found.

  “The killer may be someone from Rigley Row who has connections here, but I doubt anybody from Rigley Row would want to drag a victim all the way up here just to kill them. It doesn’t make sense. If anything, they would have killed the women and left them on the War Office’s doorstep. That is something the Rigley Row mob would enjoy.” Oliver hated to have to do it, but he stepped closer to the body to take a proper look at the victim in the hope of being able to name her.

  “Do you know something? I see this kind of thing all too often, but it never ceases to make me feel sick,” Will huffed.

  “She has been dead for several days,” Oliver murmured, doing his best to keep his face impassive as he studied what was visible of the corpse. “But she was buried last night, when the villagers saw someone up here.”

  “Mother of God,” Ryan hissed.

  “Why wait several days to bury her corpse?” Will ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

  Oliver shook his head. Words failed him sometimes, especially at times like this.

  “It’s damned macabre,” Phillip huffed.

  “I just can’t see that anybody travelled anywhere with her smelling like this.” Harry snorted. “Who in the Hell would want to travel anywhere with this? The smell would waft around for miles given how windy it has been. You couldn’t hide anything with this in the back of your cart.”

  “I agree,” Oliver replied.

  “Well, what we know is that she has been dead for several days, and only buried here last night, so someone carted her around the village. It’s sick, and grotesque that they would then not even bother to bury her properly, but the facts are here before us.” Ryan stepped back a little when the smell wafted toward him.

  “There is a message in leaving her like this. They want us to know that we aren’t aware if our victims are alive or dead, and that we will only find the deceased when the kidnapper says so. It puts the kidnapper very firmly in control.” Oliver stood up and threw a warning look at his colleagues.

  “She hasn’t been interfered with by animals,” Rhys informed him, tipping his head to study the body’s position in the soil. “It looks to me as if she has been almost ritualistically arranged; as if presented to whichever unlucky bastard finds her.”

  Oliver nodded. The woman’s clothing had been straightened as if her death was being presented to the world as a fait accompli. All buttons on her worn shirt had been fastened, the skirt primly tugged down to cover her legs to the tips of her aged boots. Even her hair had been brushed away from her mottled cheeks so the grotesque Fate that had befallen her was visible on her twisted features.

  “She looks like she is silently screaming,” Rhys whispered.

  Oliver walked around the corpse, making sure not to allow his gaze to stray to the young woman’s sightless eyes, which stared blankly at the rolling thunderclouds high above. The gaping maw of her mouth was open as if in the middle of a silent scream. It gave her an eerie, frozen appearance that was deeply disturbing. Whoever had left her had positioned the woman’s arms, so they lay perfectly straight against her sides. She had indeed been presented to the world.

  “What I don’t understand is if they want her to be found why they didn’t leave her in the village somewhere?” Rhys asked. “Why go to this pretence?”

  “He – they – enjoy the chase. From up here, they can sit in the village or anywhere around these parts where this bluff is visible and can watch us. I don’t doubt the bastard is out there, making sure his point has been proven,” Oliver growled.

  “He – they – always seem to be one step ahead of us.” Rhys turned to look at the surrounding landscape but couldn’t see anything untoward. However, that was not to say that someone wasn’t watching them somewhere. “It so damned annoying to think that he is out there but just out of reach, and somewhere we cannot find him.”

  Everyone turned to look at Oliver when spoke. “I think he is around here still and watching us. He would want the satisfaction of knowing we have found her but cannot find him. What happens if nobody ventured up here for several weeks? The foxes could have these bones and she might never be noticed. No, this was deliberately staged by someone who knew she was going to be found.”

  Oliver hated to add that he felt he was right ‘in his bones’, but he had learnt a long time ago never to ignore his gut instinct. It was screaming at him that whoever had been kidnapping young women off the streets lived locally or were local enough right now to be watching them find the victim.

  “Well, I don’t think we should be standing up here putting on a damned show for the bastard. Let’s get out of here,” Will hissed.

  Unsurprisingly, nobody made any attempt to leave, not least because high atop the bluff, while visible to the villagers, they were at least able to have an open conversation without fear of anybody overhearing them. The killer didn’t know what they were discussing and was going to be thwarted if he expected the entire village to be cast into turmoil because of his ruthless disregard for a young woman’s life.

  “Might it be that whoever is killing these women is local enough to know the village’s routines? I mean, if the butcher does his rounds twice weekly, on say a Tuesday and Thursday, the killer would know where to leave a body for him to find, wouldn’t he?” Rhys said.

  “Maybe.” Oliver shrugged. “Maybe the killer wants everyone in the village to be on edge and wonder which one of them did it? He would enjoy having power over so many people.”

  “But why? It’s a nondescript little village in the arse end of nowhere. Why would their fear matter to someone who is part of a kidnapping gang?” Will shifted from one foot to another to try to get some warmth back into his chilled toes.

  “It isn’t the sleepy village he wants to worry. A murder will hit the headlines, won’t it? Everyone in Leicestershire is going to hear of this, and of the fact that the victim is one of the women who was kidnapped several months ago,” Oliver growled.

  “He wants to worry the locals to silence them, or remind them that he is still in control, and ensure everybody knows that we haven’t done our job properly and found him yet.” Will’s gaze hardened. “We know who it is.”

  Having fetched a small stick from the woods behind them, Harry carefully teased the coarse cotton of the young woman’s dress away from the obsidian marks around the mottled flesh of her neck.

  “She was beautiful, if a little careworn.” Rhys tipped his head to study the perfectly proportioned features. Had she been alive, he didn’t doubt they would have given the woman a remarkably appealing visage the likes of which would have been stunning.

  “She matches the description of Caroline Elkins, one of the last to be taken,” Will mur
mured.

  “And one of the first to be found,” Oliver sighed.

  “She has a twin sister in Leicestershire.” Will looked at the trees when he sensed movement within them.

  Everyone turned to watch the pale and shaken farmer lean wearily against one of the trees. Farmer Quigley took one look at the corpse, slapped his hand over his mouth, and doubled over once more.

  “We need to get her out of here,” Will added thoughtfully.

  Oliver, who had been watching the hapless farmer, nodded his agreement.

  “I think farmer Quigley has already sent his lad to fetch the magistrate,” Rhys replied.

  “Am I to ignore the fact that we are only twenty or so miles from Smidgley Hall?” Ryan asked suddenly, broaching the subject none of them really wanted to discuss. He knew they were all thinking of the arrogant young aristocrat and his ruthless twin brother who lived only a few miles away. The Smidgley’s were the Star Elite’s prime suspects for both the kidnaps and the murders.

  “We can’t ignore who lives so close,” Oliver’s voice was crisp. “They are almost daring us to prove it is either of them, if not both.”

  Harry growled: “They know we have nothing on them but suspicion.”

  “It’s not enough to get them behind bars where they belong, unfortunately,” Oliver warned. “We have to do better. That is all there is to it.”

  They all paused to look at the sleepy village nestled seemingly harmlessly in the lee of the valley below. From their vantage point they could see the narrow road that wound lazily through the village, the left branch of which had brought them to the bluff high atop the hill overlooking the small cluster of houses. The road to the right led to the main North Road, and Smidgley Hall, just a few miles beyond that.

  “There is a clear route in and out of the village from the Smidgley estate. If nobody bothered to look, someone could leave her up here under the cover of nightfall and be back home again pretty quickly, couldn’t they?” Will ran a frustrated hand through his wind-ruffled hair.