The Wilderness Murders: DI Giles Book 16 (DI Giles Suspense Thriller Series)

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  4

  The mystery photographs

  Custody was quiet and empty, save for the sergeant who showed her to the locked room where the rucksack and its contents lay bagged.

  He explained they had used that room in case the bag belonged to the murder victims. Otherwise, it would have been in lost property.

  He left the DI to examine the items in transparent evidence bags.

  One item was an open wallet, absent of any driver’s licence, photo ID, or name of any kind. There was no mobile phone present, only a thirty-five millimetre digital camera.

  There was, however, thirty-seven pounds and twenty-nine pence, increasing her suspicion that this wasn’t a robbery gone wrong.

  She had brought with her the statement provided by the officer who received the rucksack from three teenagers, who discovered it on the Ridgeway, and copies of photographs extracted from the digital camera's memory card.

  The DI pursed her lips, going through the material with a furrowed forehead. A camera, wallet without ID, compass, and pens. That was it. It hardly warranted a rucksack for such a tiny haul.

  Then there were the photographs.

  At first glance, they were the eclectic snaps of someone on a country hike. But, on closer inspection, they had an eeriness that churned her stomach with unease for whoever had held the camera. They were mostly closeups. A large stone photographed three times from different angles. A small stream and stile, also captured three times, and disorientating photographs of the canopy, shot from underneath in both daylight and the blackness of night. The latter was lit only by the camera flash. Even with photograph manipulation in the lab, there appeared to be nothing else in the pictures taken in the dark, only that same bit of canopy, photographed repeatedly, over many hours. Why? Had the camera operator camped in that spot? Were those pictures for posterity? In which case, why take some in which nothing else was visible, only blackness? Had they become lost? Were they capturing their surroundings to prevent themselves from going round in circles? Were they injured, or otherwise immobilised? And why had their belongings ended up on a dirt track at the Ridgeway? Did they belong to Miles and Seren Payne? Or someone else? Was this the killer’s camera? Or was it all entirely unconnected?

  Yvonne sat back, scratching her head. The bag and its contents were to be moved to the evidence room until they had answers, forensic or otherwise. She informed the desk sergeant as much on her way out.

  Jonathan Payne appeared pale and drawn as they accompanied him to the viewing room at the morgue.

  He had agreed to represent both families, saving Seren’s elderly parents travelling from Kent, in case it wasn’t the Paynes lying on the mortuary tables.

  “Thank you for coming.” Yvonne’s voice was soft as she eyed the hunched shoulders that made him appear smaller than his five-feet-eleven.

  Dark circles rimmed his grey eyes and his damp shirt, open at the neck, had creases where he had pulled it out of his trousers. He had driven for over two hours from Hereford, but had refused the food and beverages offered with a wave of his hand, focused entirely on the task ahead. He had, however, agreed to examine the rucksack and its contents, to see if they had belonged to his brother Miles, or his brother’s wife, Seren. This he would do, after identifying the bodies.

  “Take your time,” she advised. “Let us know when you are ready.”

  He nodded, running a hand through thick, auburn hair, and clearing his throat.

  “Would you like someone with you?”

  He shook his head.

  “I must remind you not to touch them, I’m sorry.”

  “Of course.” Sweat formed translucent beads on his brow.

  The mortuary assistant pulled back the shrouds on each body.

  Jonathan put a hand to his mouth, choking back the cry of a wounded man.

  Tears formed, but did not fall. He nodded, running his hands through his hair, and squeezing the nape of his neck. A self-comforting gesture.

  The DI adjusted her skirt. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan,” she said.

  Such moments were some of the most difficult in the job, second only to revealing the death of a child, when words failed to do themselves justice in the face of such grief.

  The distraught man cleared his throat. He didn’t meet her gaze. “How did they die?”

  “I’m afraid we haven't yet carried out the post-mortem.” It was a deflection, but she thought it best to withhold some detail. Until cleared, the man in front of her could count himself among the suspects for a double murder. And, though his sadness appeared genuine, even murderers sometimes regretted that most heinous of acts.

  “Are you okay to view the rucksack now?” Her voice remained gentle.

  “Yes, of course.” He turned towards her, a look of confusion clouding his features. “Who would do this to a couple as friendly as they were?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Unfortunately, there are people out there who can hurt anyone. For some, the nicer the person, the easier it is to victimise them.”

  “But… my brother…”

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  She led him through to an interview room, where the rucksack and its contents sat ready for viewing. They had swabbed them for DNA tests, the results of which were pending.

  It took moments for him to shake his head. “It doesn’t belong to my brother or his wife.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “You can take more time if you need it.”

  “It’s not Miles’ or Seren’s. It’s too green. They had a grey rucksack with a green stripe. This is not theirs, and it’s the wrong size. They had a bigger pack.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  “What about the contents?”

  He took his time over those, viewing each of the items in the sealed bags. “I don’t recognise any of these as belonging to my brother or his wife. I should know, I live… lived… with them. These things are not theirs.”

  “Very well.” She nodded. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about the couple now, if I may?”

  “Yes.”

  She showed him to a seat at the interview table, where her notebook lay. “I should remind you we have a camera up there. It records the conversations we have. That is for your protection, as well as our records.”

  “Am I a suspect?” he asked, in a way that told her he knew he would be. Those closest to the victims might expect as much.

  “For now, everyone is. We are keeping an open mind, Jonathan. There was evidence of premeditation.”

  “I see… So, someone planned to murder my family?”

  “They aimed to murder someone, not necessarily your relatives. Who else knew that your brother and his wife would be in the area?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of their friends may have known. Perhaps, a neighbour or two?”

  “Were Miles and Seren active on social media?”

  He tilted his head. “They used Facebook. I think Seren had an Instagram account for sharing photos, and her favourite books. Miles wasn’t into Instagram. And, in fact, he used Facebook a lot less than his wife.”

  “I see.” She leaned back in her chair. “How long had you been living with them?”

  “Since I was sixteen. I was living in a shared flat with Miles when he met Seren. They were together three years before they got married.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “We never knew our father, and mum died when we were young. I was three, and Miles, five.” He ran a hand across his forehead and sighed. “It devastated me when they fostered us separately, but Miles saw me regularly and we agreed, when we were little, that one day we would live in the same house again.”

  “It must have been hard, being separated when you were so young?”

  “It was.”

  “What happened to your mum? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “She suffered a brain aneurism in her sleep. Miles found her. His scream s
tayed with me for years. I can still hear it now, in fact.”

  Again, she witnessed tears forming in his eyes, and how he held them in check somehow, pressing his lips hard together. “We’ve always been close, Miles and I, even when we couldn’t live together as brothers.”

  Yvonne nodded. “Do you need some time?” She took a pack of tissues from her jacket pocket, offering them to him.

  “No, it’s okay.” He waved them away. “I want you to have all the information you need to investigate my brother’s death. He didn’t deserve to die this young.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “The morning they left for Wales. He and Seren were sorting through some last minute items to take with them. They had them spread out on the bed. I wished them well and told them to have a great time. I hugged them both and kissed Seren on the cheek. They were happy, and in good spirits, looking forward to the adventure.”

  “Had you considered going with them?”

  “Who me? Of course not. I’m not into being a gooseberry. God no, definitely not. Besides, we’ve been flat out at work, I wouldn’t have got the time off.”

  “Where do you work, Jonathan?” She tilted her head.

  “I sell stoves. You know, high-end wood burners, in a store on the outskirts of Hereford. I love the country, but I’m not so keen on the commute.”

  “I see. How did you get on with Seren?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I got on very well with her. Why would you ask that?”

  For the first time, she sensed irritation. He hadn’t liked that question. “I’m building a picture.” Her gaze remained steady. “To know the murderer, we must really know the victims.”

  “Seren was a wonderful woman. She worked as a teaching assistant in a primary school. She’d been thinking of completing teacher training, to go fully fledged. That would have started next year. She would have made a fantastic teacher. She was a beautiful person, inside and out.”

  Yvonne nodded. “I’m sure… How was her relationship with Miles?”

  His eyes flicked from his hands to her face. “They had a great relationship. They supported one another. Miles was Seren’s rock. They had arguments, sure, but they wouldn’t last. Both of them could talk things through.”

  “Was Seren comfortable about you living with them?”

  “Of course.” He frowned. “If she hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have stayed with them. I was best man at their wedding.”

  “I’m sorry to ask.” She rubbed her chin. “It’s just that some people would not be so comfortable with members of their spouse’s family living in the same house.”

  “Well, Seren was. She was a kind-hearted, generous person. They both were. I always felt welcome, and I never heard them having an argument or a disagreement about me living with them. God, if I had, I would have packed my bags, and found a place.”

  “Were you paying rent?”

  “Yes, I paid every month without fail. They were glad of the extra income, and I was happy for a comfortable pad to live, at a much cheaper cost than I would have experienced in the open rental market.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “Did you eat with them?”

  “Yes, I did. I also picked up shopping for them sometimes, and we always ate our evening meals together. I loved my brother, Inspector Giles.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Yvonne leaned back in her chair, hands together, with her chin resting on the tips of her fingers. “What will you do now?”

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m still coming to terms with their loss.”

  She tilted her head. “And I am sorry to be questioning you, when you’ve just viewed the people you love in the morgue.”

  “It’s okay.” He put up a hand. “That’s your job, and I want my brother’s killer found as much as you do. I will do anything to help you with that.”

  “I appreciate it, Mister Payne.” She handed him her card. “You can reach me on that number anytime. If I don’t answer, you can leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can. If you think of anything you feel I should know, no matter how minor you believe it to be, you call me, okay?”

  Jonathan rose from his seat. “Thank you, Inspector, I will.”

  “Do you have someone to support you?” She stood to escort him out.

  “I have a girlfriend. I’ll go see her. She’s taken the afternoon off work so she can be with me when I get back to Hereford.”

  “I'm glad. And we'll do everything in our power to find your brother's killer.”

  As she returned to CID, Yvonne pondered the rucksack. It hadn’t belonged to the Paynes. Did it belong to their murderer?

  “How did it go?” Dewi asked, a sheaf of paper under his arm. “I take it we have an identification?”

  She nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. “It’s definitely Miles and Seren, but the brother insists the rucksack is nothing to do with them.”

  Dewi pulled a face. “Yet, we didn’t find personal items at the campsite. No phones, camera, car keys… nothing.”

  “Exactly. Jonathan told me that Miles and Seren had a grey rucksack with a green stripe on it. He was adamant that he had never seen the one we have.”

  “Could it be the killer’s?” Dewi put his papers down, folding his arms. “Something tells me its appearance on the Ridgeway is suspicious, given the timing.”

  “Have we had the results of the fingerprint analysis, yet? DNA?”

  Dewi nodded, picking his papers back up and rifling through them. “They found prints on the bag, none of which matched to the Paynes. We have the three lads who found it coming back in, so we can eliminate their prints.”

  “Great, I’d like to speak to each of them. Did you check the prints on the bag against the database?”

  “We did. There were no matches there, either.”

  “Very well.” The DI sighed. “I want it kept in the evidence room until we know who it belongs to. It might very well be the property of the Paynes’ murderer. We’ll assume it is until we learn otherwise.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  5

  Three friends

  Seventeen-year-old Eifion Evans sat quietly, looking around the interview room, dressed in a shirt and tie, his short dark hair combed to the side with gel. He wore a pair of rimless glasses, which he pushed up his nose at regular intervals, even though Yvonne was sure they had not moved a millimetre in between.

  “Good morning, Eifion.” She gave him a broad smile to help settle his nerves. “Thank you, for coming in.”

  “No problem.” He cleared his throat.

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Because we found an abandoned rucksack on the Ridgeway?” He shrugged.

  “That’s right, myself and Detective Sergeant Hughes wish to ask you some questions about the bag, and the day you found it. You may be aware there was a double murder near a campsite on the Ridgeway. It's possible you saw something that could be relevant.”

  He stared at her, wide-eyed. “Do you think the rucksack had something to do with the deaths?”

  “We don’t know, Eifion. That is what we aim to find out.”

  “Wow…”

  “I see you are at sixth-form college, Newtown High School. Is that correct?”

  “It is.” He nodded. “I’m studying physics, maths, and chemistry. I want to do engineering at university.”

  “Well, I wish you all the very best with that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And, you were on the Ridgeway that day with two friends, is that correct?”

  “Yes, they are my schoolmates, Alfie and Ieuan. It was brilliant weather, and the Ridgeway seemed an excellent choice. We wanted to walk it to the crossroads, and then head to Dairy Dreams for ice cream.”

  “Dairy Dreams?”

  “Yes, it’s a dairy farm ice cream shop.”

  “I see.”

  “It was the start of our summer holidays. We’ve been
under COVID lockdown restrictions for what seems like forever, and the lifting of the lockdown was big for us. I couldn’t wait to be out and about. The others felt the same way.”

  “Did you see anyone else up there?”

  Eifion shook his head. “Not a soul. To be fair, I wasn’t really expecting to. Aside from the beach, many places are still pretty quiet. I think people fear this new Delta variant of the virus.”

  “Did you see any vehicles up there? Four-by-fours, for instance?”

  He tilted his head, looking at the ceiling. “Erm, not that I recall.”

  “What did you think, when you found the rucksack?”

  “Well, I saw it first as we headed up the Ridgeway track. It was standing upright, in the middle of the path. I thought it was strange. We all did. But, I assumed that someone had left it there while they went for a leak in the field. I didn’t feel concerned, until we headed back that way nearly three hours later, and the bag was still there. Then it seemed kind of creepy. Alfie had a bad feeling about it.”

  “So, your friends felt it was odd, too?”

  “Yes, they thought it was weird that no-one had been to collect it. We thought perhaps the owner had gone for a leak, had an accident, and was lying in a ditch somewhere. Except, if that were the case, they wouldn’t have been far away. We didn’t know in which direction to search. We took a cursory look round, calling out to anyone who might have been there, but we found no-one. My friends suggested we look inside the bag, but I thought that a bad idea, in case we contaminated anything.” He screwed up his face. “Does this mean you still don’t know who owns the bag?”

  “Our investigations are ongoing, Eifion. Are you saying that neither yourself, nor your friends opened the bag?”

  “I didn’t open it. And, yes, as far as I know, my friends didn’t either.”

  “Were you with the bag the whole time?”

  “Well no, I went for a leak myself and, after we informed the police, we left the rucksack in place for police to check it out. We went about the rest of our day. I didn’t give it another thought, until I got your call, yesterday.”