Her Dark Heart: A totally gripping crime thriller (Detective Gina Harte Book 5)

by Carla Kovach

  ‘Everything is in place to search our victim’s house.’ He picked up a stack of paperwork and dropped it onto the desk.

  Gina flicked through it before standing. ‘I suggest we get there as soon as possible. We need to uncover more about Dale. Who is he? How well did he know Susan Wheeler? I’m sorry to task you with this one,’ she said as she addressed O’Connor. ‘From Dale Blair’s DVLA records, we have found out who his next of kin is. His parents live only a few streets away. If the key we have doesn’t unlock the door, we will need to see if they have a spare.’

  ‘I’ll get onto it now then, guv. When I get back, I’ll go through all the witness information from the river.’ He stood and pulled his coat from the back of the chair.

  ‘Wyre, Jacob, we should head there now. I’ll arrange a van and a search team. Meet me here in five and be ready to leave.’

  They both nodded and left the room with O’Connor, heading back towards their office before leaving. As the heater clicked off, the room suddenly fell silent. Briggs turned away from the board. ‘Go and solve this one. Anything you need from me, just ask. I’ll handle the media. All good?’

  She nodded. ‘All good, sir.’

  ‘How are things lately? I haven’t heard from you much.’

  ‘I’ve been busy, I suppose.’

  ‘Really?’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business.’

  She smiled back. He was right, but she loved that he cared. ‘I’ll catch you later.’ As she left him alone in the room, part of her wanted to step a little closer to him, once again feeling his warmth. She needed to control those feelings just like she was having to do when she saw Mary. Too often, once a situation or a person reminded her of something, she couldn’t just let it go. Briggs evoked feelings in her, those of warmth, lust, desire, pleasure; of confusion, anger at her weakness and her lack of self-control. Their affair could have ruined her career, ensuring that neither of them was taken seriously again. Mary reminded her of the motherly love she deeply craved in her life and the fact that she’d let her down, losing the only chance she ever had of saying she was sorry.

  She should have left Terry back then, gone home to her parents and told them all about what had happened, how he’d beaten her and abused her, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t even gone home to comfort her own mother during her dying hours and she’d never shake off the feeling that she was the worst person alive. Terry hadn’t chained her to the house. It sounded so easy now that all this time had passed, but those invisible chains had been all too powerful back then. Sorry, Mum, she thought as she pushed her office door open and prepared for the task ahead.

  Thirty-Two

  Gina ended a call with O’Connor, after a brief update, the sound of him chomping on whatever he was having for lunch made her think of food – but food would have to wait. Dale Blair’s parents had been informed of his murder and had kindly given them the key to enter his house, citing that they’d do anything required to catch the beast that killed their gentle son. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought about how they must have felt. She couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d feel if she were told the same about her daughter, Hannah. Even though their bonds weren’t closely tied, that news would devastate her. She wanted nothing more than Hannah to have a happy, loving relationship and watch little Gracie grow up.

  She shook her head as she stepped out of the car, shivering as she caught up with Wyre and Jacob. They stood outside Dale Blair’s door, waiting for forensics to catch up. A muffled barking came from within.

  A woman across the road was dawdling as she went to get in her hatchback, intrigued by the police cars and the van that had pulled up. ‘Is everything okay,’ she called out from the other side of the road.

  ‘I’ll be over in a moment,’ Gina called back to her.

  Keith hurried towards her with his toolbox, awaiting his briefing.

  ‘We’re looking for anything that may lead us to Susan Wheeler or any evidence of a struggle; blood, hair, anything. No one has seen him since Tuesday and today he turns up dead,’ Gina said in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone to hear. She appreciated that Keith had been down by the river all morning and she could tell by the way he was wincing that his back was playing him up.

  ‘I’ll get straight to it,’ he said as he continued along the drive.

  This was going to be long and gruelling for all of them. She hurried across the road towards the woman. ‘Do you know Mr Blair at all?’ Gina asked.

  She shook her head and adjusted her woolly beret, her brown hair neatly positioned over her shoulders. ‘I saw him come and go but I didn’t really speak to him.’

  Gina pulled out a photo of Susan Wheeler. ‘Have you seen this woman recently or a silver Peugeot hatchback parked up anywhere around here?’

  Again, the woman shook her head. Gina caught a whiff of orange as the woman came closer to scrutinise the photo. ‘No, sorry. Is he okay? I mean, I live here with my kids. It’s to do with that body found by the river this morning, isn’t it?’

  They hadn’t had the formal identification but she was one hundred per cent certain it was him. It was simply a matter of time before it was confirmed. It seemed that news had spread quickly. If the neighbour had been brazen enough to come right over and ask, she’d be talking to everyone else in the street soon. Gina hoped one of them would come forward with some information.

  ‘Was it natural causes?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t disclose any details of the case at the moment. Here’s my card. If you remember anything, please call me.’

  The woman tucked her scarf into the top of her coat and nodded. ‘Of course, Detective.’ She placed the card in her pocket and headed back to her car, where she was immediately greeted by the man next door. The whole street would know soon, especially when they began conducting further door-to-door enquiries in the area.

  Gina jogged along the path and listened to the dog whimpering behind the door.

  ‘A dog handler is on the way. I’ve had a look through the letterbox, it looks to be an old Labrador and it was wagging its tail, so we’re going in.’ Jacob placed the key in the lock and, as smooth as butter, it opened the door, allowing the pungent smell of dog mess to escape. Jacob coughed and held his arm across his mouth and nose as he entered.

  The old, overweight dog bounded out and PC Kapoor swiftly grabbed its collar. It waddled along as it was gently led back towards the house. As Gina went to step into the hallway, the image of her own home with Terry lying dead on the floor forced her to stop. The half-moon glass in the front door brought it all back. The layout of the hall was the same as hers, same type of house. She took a deep breath and forced it away. Get over yourself, Gina. So vivid was the memory, she remembered the smell of her own sweat as her heart pounded at the sight of him taking his last breath. The sounds of baby Hannah’s cries had forced her out of her shock-filled trance. She’d run to the window and checked to see if any of her neighbours had been looking out of their windows. No one had heard a thing, they never did.

  ‘Hey,’ called the man in the van as he pulled up on the path in front of Keith’s forensics van. Gina unclenched her fists and flinched. ‘Have you come about the dog? I bet some busybody has moaned about it. The thing has been barking non-stop since the other day and we’ve barely slept.’

  Gina walked over to Don Fellow.

  Don smiled in recognition. ‘Has he turned up yet? We ’aven’t seen him.’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘I’ve heard that a body has been found. Wife was on Facebook this morning.’ The dog’s barks boomed from the house. Don stepped out of his van, rubbing his hands together as he headed closer to Gina. He pulled his hat on and rubbed his hands together again. ‘What’s going to happen to his dog?’

  Quite often people concerned themselves in these situations with what would happen to the pets. ‘Hopefully one of his family members will come for it, if not, we will have to call the RSPCA and hope they reho
me it.’ Gina had already convinced Hannah she needed a family dog following a previous case. The thought of what would happen to it had preyed on Gina’s mind. She knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t try to guilt Hannah into having another dog, and she didn’t have the time to look after one.

  ‘I can look after him, for now. He’s an old boy, I don’t think he could cope with kennels and no one will want him. Wife’ll kill me… that wasn’t the right thing to say. She won’t really kill me.’

  She smiled warmly at the man. ‘It’s okay, Mr Fellow. It would be lovely if you could take the dog for now. We can let Dale’s parents know to get in touch with you. It looks like he hasn’t been fed and he may need a good walk.’ Kapoor had been dragged out of the house by the dog and the way it waddled in the ice conjured up an image that almost made her chuckle. It wouldn’t get much further than the end of the street if it tried its hardest. ‘I’ll get PC Kapoor to bring him over to you in a moment.’

  Mrs Fellow opened the door and Mr Fellow put on his fakest smile. Gina could tell his wife had sensed he was going to come out with something she wasn’t going to like. ‘I got something to tell you, love. We’ll go inside and put the kettle on.’ Her brow furrowed as she shrugged her shoulders, leaving the door slightly open as she waited.

  ‘Right. I best go and fill her in. I’m really sorry to hear about poor Dale. That’s awful news. How did he die?’

  ‘We can’t say anything as yet, sorry. It’s really good of you to take his dog in though. I’m sure he would have been really grateful. You’re very kind.’ The man nodded and headed towards his house.

  ‘Or just plain daft. Wish me luck,’ he called to Gina as he closed the door.

  With the dog out of the way, they were free to start looking over the house. She finished suiting up so as not to contaminate the scene. Face masks were passed around and for once, each and every one of them had welcomed having to wear one. With the dog mess contained in the kitchen, they closed the door temporarily and began doing a walk-through of the house.

  ‘We’ll start upstairs.’ Jacob nodded and followed her up the carpeted steps where they were greeted with a small room containing just the toilet and a washbasin. Dale hadn’t been expecting any visitors. The toilet seat was up and the little mat around it, protecting the carpet, had a yellow tinge along the edge that touched the toilet. She took a few steps onto the landing and opened the first door that led to a modern bathroom which looked like it had recently been done out. It looked like a posh en suite in an upmarket hotel. Granite toilet roll holder and matching soap dispenser – they looked barely used. Gina pulled her mask and allowed it to rest under her chin.

  ‘I think this must have been his bedroom, guv.’

  She followed Jacob into the room. The curtains were closed and it was dark. He flicked on the light. Double bed, neatly made. He’d even added a couple of cushions and a throw. Both bedside tables were adorned with personal items. One had a packet of antacids sitting on the side and a real-life crime magazine, the other had a glass of water and a copy of Jane Eyre on it. ‘It looks like two people use this room. I don’t know about you, I sleep alone and I only tend to use one of my bedside cabinets. Do you have a favourite side of the bed?’

  ‘The left,’ he replied as he continued looking around.

  ‘Same here. I sleep on the left and only use the cabinet on the left. I wonder who’s been staying here with Dale.’ She kneeled down and looked under the bed. Nothing. There were no boxes, not even a collection of dust bunnies or cobwebs. Dale kept a fairly tidy home. She slid open his drawers, one by one, as Jacob did the same the other side. Nothing out of the ordinary. ‘Just pants and socks, no secret compartments, nothing unusual.’

  She left the bedroom with Jacob close behind and headed to the second bedroom at the front of the house. The open curtains barely let any light in given the greyscale sky. He had a desk with a stack of labelled in-trays on it. Jobs to do, jobs to invoice, bookkeeping. The bookkeeping tray was empty. ‘Susan Wheeler could have taken his paperwork with her when she left.’

  ‘Which seems to be why she came here.’ Jacob peered out of the window. Gina guessed more of the neighbours would be out there now.

  ‘What are we missing? Susan disappears after seeing Dale. They argue, about what? We have no idea. That may mean that her coming here was not just about bookkeeping. What was it about? How does she know Dale? From what we now know, they didn’t go to the same schools. They’ve always lived in Cleevesford. They didn’t seem to communicate on social media even though they were Facebook friends. Then, Dale is murdered, throttled. Could Susan have done that alone? Dale was a large chap. Susan is little more than a waif. This is all bugging the life out of me. We need to speak to Dale’s parents and find out who his significant other is. Susan was getting divorced. Do you think she was seeing Dale? Is that her copy of Jane Eyre? I suppose forensics will be able to tell us if her prints are all over it.’

  ‘They don’t look to be a likely match.’

  ‘I agree, but I’ve been more than surprised in the past. I never try to guess other people’s tastes in partners.’ She left the room and hurried downstairs, eager to see the living room.

  ‘Anything?’ Gina asked Wyre as she entered.

  Wyre shook her head. The smell of dog urine was turning Gina’s stomach. Looking through the kitchen would be a bigger challenge.

  The large, netted bay window allowed quite a lot of light to enter the room considering it was such a dreary day. Gina felt the coldness hit the tip of her nose. This felt like a house no one had lived in for a while. It reminded her of coming back from a winter sun holiday and stepping into a vacant lifeless room. The largest television she’d ever seen dominated the one end of the room and a fireplace and hearth sat next to it. Clean – it hadn’t been lit for a while. Two dirty cups had been left on the coffee table. ‘I wonder who was here having a drink? Was it Susan or the Charlotte Brontë fan, or are they the same person?’ Wyre stood at the door, listening. Nothing else seemed out of place. Again, Dale lived a tidy life, he liked his home comforts if the scatter cushions and snuggle blanket were anything to go by. She passed the bookcase, noticing that Dale had a fascination with real-life crime. He seemed to own books about every serial killer she’d ever heard of, and now he’d been killed.

  She returned her mask over her nose and opened the kitchen door. Keith was already taking swabs. Avoiding the many puddles and messes on the floor, she opened cupboard after cupboard. All his tins were in order, soups to the left, bean and pulses in the middle, tinned veg to the right. She shuddered. Reaching Terry’s level of perfection had been impossible. Not only did he measure the distance of the tins from each other, the labels all had to face the front, be perfectly centred and be clean. Tins could never touch the edge of the cupboard. He’d smell them all to see if she had cleaned them with a light disinfecting wash before putting them in his cupboards. His – everything had been his, including her. She shivered as she thought about how he’d ensured she complied. That crash of a tin over her knuckles had caused her to scream while he laughed. She flexed her hand and felt the thumb muscle resist. Ever since that day, that little bit of resistance had reminded her of that first time. He would never have let her go.

  Terry had made her arrange everything to neat-freak perfection – Dale chose to exist in this perfect environment. She almost wanted to mess them up a little to free him, to free herself. She opened the cupboard under the sink and a stack of carrier bags escaped onto the lino flooring. Maybe all his cupboards weren’t so perfect. Maybe there was an underlying chaos in his life, one he struggled to hide. She had found his chaos. She opened the bin and noticed something that looked like red string lying on the empty dog food tins. With her hand in an evidence bag she pulled it out and held it up to the window. It looked like a long piece of red liquorice, none of it eaten and it looked to be neatly snipped at an angle. She opened his fridge, neatly stacked meat pies, and pasties – all out of date. In th
e other cupboards, crisps and nachos. No sign of anything sugary at all, except the red liquorice.

  ‘Oh hell. The mask isn’t helping,’ Jacob said as he entered, gagging under his mask – and they had only just started.

  Gina’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Stepping out of the kitchen, she answered. ‘DI Harte.’

  ‘It’s Felicity, I spoke to you not long ago, the woman who lives opposite Dale, remember. You said to call if I could help. I think I know where Susan Wheeler’s car is.’

  Thirty-Three

  Gina hurried to the road where they were to meet Felicity, the woman in the beret. Finding Susan’s car might give them just the lead they needed to progress with the case. She spotted her standing by the roadside jumping on the spot as she rubbed her hands together. A frosty film glistened on the pavement as a ray of sun stabbed through the fast-moving clouds. A cold wind slapped Gina face on as she and Jacob stepped out of the car and hurried towards the woman. ‘I think you need to get a tow truck on standby. If it is Susan’s car, we need to get it checked over as soon as possible.’

  He nodded, stepped aside and pulled out his phone. ‘I’ll catch you up.’

  Damson Close. A cul-de-sac with a mixture of new builds and housing association properties. Some flats, some houses, some three-storey, some bungalows. It was a street that she knew to have a high turnover of people living there and it was only two roads away from Dale Blair’s house. Gina pondered as to why Susan would park two streets away from her client’s house and walk the rest of the way. Maybe she knew someone close by and was popping over to visit them after. Gina smiled at Felicity. ‘Thanks for calling.’