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

by Carla Kovach

  ‘I think anything’s possible.’

  ‘You know that Mary gave me a box full of poems and drawings?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There was a little piece of red liquorice in that box. We need to book it into evidence as soon as we get back to the station. There was also a piece in Dale’s bin, when we searched the house. It all needs crossmatching.’

  She glanced at her watch. They were now running late. Midday had come and gone. She zipped up her coat. ‘Let’s go.’

  Forty-Four

  Phoebe hurried to the park, checking her phone. ‘Please wait for me, Mum,’ she muttered under her breath as she splashed in a puddle. She hurried across the field, her trainers soaking through as she trudged through the mud. The misty skies fell down on the earth.

  She glanced at the cut through and couldn’t see anyone waiting. ‘Mum,’ she called as she climbed through and ran towards the swings. ‘Mum.’

  Silence.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked her messages, nothing from her mum.

  Phoebe flinched as a gloved hand reached across her face, clasping a piece of rag over her mouth. That wasn’t her mum’s hand, it was large and thick fingered. She tried to scream but he clamped his hand harder. Gasping, she could taste the coarseness of the rag in her mouth and the sweetness of what was on it.

  Woozy. The sky had turned onto its side and was falling, that’s how it looked to her. Or, was it she who had tilted.

  She flapped her arms but she was weakening every time she inhaled. Minutes had passed and he’d remained behind her, gripping her with the rag over her face. Kicking back made no difference. Whatever she did, he just stood firm.

  Her coat ripped on the bushes as he dragged her further into the thicket. The road was close, she could hear cars coming and going down the carriageway but behind the thicket was a smaller road where she knew people parked up at night to take drugs and have parties.

  With speckled vision, she tried to look up at his face, shaking as soon as she recognised him. It was the man she’d seen walking outside her dad’s flat last night. Now closer to him, she knew she’d seen him before that, just the once.

  A tear ran down her face. Cold and wet, her coat had ripped. Her dad was going to be mad when he saw it. He would be angry at her not being at a friend’s house across the way. She was in such big trouble. Where was her mum?

  Weak. She was losing the battle. One more breath and she felt herself going, sleeping… and gone.

  ‘Go to sleep my angel.’ He threw her little body into the boot of his car and kissed the sleepy girl on the forehead.

  Forty-Five

  Raindrops hit the windscreen as Gina pulled up in front of the coach house. Darkness had almost drawn a close to most people’s day. Not for her though. Her days never ended. Crimes didn’t simply occur Monday to Friday, or between the hours of nine and five, and she was glad. The thought of being stuck in a standard nine to five job filled her with dread.

  ‘What are Dale Blair’s parents called again?’

  Jacob glanced at the notes. ‘Cynthia and Phillip Blair.’

  The upstairs curtains parted and a long-haired woman peered out as a man opened the door. They’d been expecting detectives to visit and Gina was aware that they were later than scheduled but getting the liquorice booked into evidence had been a priority.

  Running to dodge the icy raindrops, Gina led the way.

  ‘Come in,’ Phillip Blair said. His round glasses didn’t do a good job of hiding his red-rimmed eyes. The tall, thin, balding man towered over her. He and Dale bore no similarities in appearance at all, except the nose. Long and thin, just like she remembered Dale’s.

  As they followed him upstairs to their residence, she glanced at the photos adorning the walls. Childhood snaps of Dale at different stages of his life. Family holidays when he was a chubby teen and a photo of him posing with a trowel as an older teenager. His parents were clearly very proud of him.

  Entering the lounge, Gina felt the warmth of the log burner. After the last couple of days, it was most welcome. The room smelt of lavender and sandalwood and was lit by several lamps. Tastefully decorated, two leather settees had been placed adjacent to the fireplace. She wondered where their television was. Books were stacked up in wooden cases, floor to ceiling along every available wall. They were readers, she could see that. Maybe they didn’t have much love for the television.

  Mrs Blair dabbed her eyes. Her long flame-red hair framed her round face. Dale had inherited most of his mother’s genes when it came to shape. The crow’s feet lines suddenly looked to be more ingrained as she held back her emotions.

  ‘Thank you for seeing us. I know this is hard for you both,’ Gina said.

  Phillip Blair gestured for them to take a seat. Gina removed her damp coat and wrapped it up. She didn’t want to dampen their settee.

  ‘Can we get you a drink?’ Mrs Blair dropped the box of tissues on the coffee table next to a copy of The Handmaid’s Tale.

  Jacob shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’

  Gina sat back slightly as both Mr and Mrs Blair sat together on the opposite sofa.

  ‘Do you have any more information?’ Mrs Blair asked, a hope-filled expression spreading across her face.

  ‘I’m afraid not. I was hoping you could tell us a little more about your son, Dale. I know this is soon, and it may even feel too soon, but with what happened to Dale, we need to know about anything that may help us find who murdered him. I’m so sorry to have to bother you in your moment of grief—’

  ‘You’re not bothering us. We want this bastard caught!’ Mr Blair stood and turned to face the curtain-covered window. ‘Whoever did this to my son, I’ll kill them myself if I—’ The man held up his arm as he choked back his emotions, starting Mrs Blair off. Once again the box of tissues was back on her lap. As he turned, he wiped his tear-stained face and Gina spotted another emotion spreading across his face: pure anger. He sucked air noisily through the slight gap in between his two front teeth as he seethed, spitting a little as he exhaled.

  Jacob opened his notebook. Mr Blair wasn’t going to need prompting to speak. Gina knew he wanted to do nothing more than talk freely about his son. Jacob went to say something. Gina held up her hand, signalling for him to hold his thoughts, and he did.

  ‘Dale was such a kind, gentle person. He’s never hurt anyone, not a soul. You know, he’s given his time up and plastered the local village hall for nothing. Dale – always there to contribute to the community. The story of an old dear hit the papers not so long ago, living in squalor, she was. He went over, re-plastered her grotty old bungalow and decorated it, all for nothing. Dale is… was the type of person to help people less fortunate and expect nothing in return and we were and are so proud of him. How anyone could do what they did. Suspected strangulation they said, the other officers.’ He shook his head back and forth before kicking the wall under his window ledge.

  ‘Do you know if Dale had any enemies?’

  Mrs Blair wiped a trailing tear. ‘Everyone loved him. I always said he was too generous though. People took advantage of his good nature. He was such a giving person but I worried that he was always seeking approval.’

  ‘In what way did people take advantage?’ Jacob asked.

  ‘You know. Trying to blag free work on their properties. Not paying him the proper rates all the time or getting him to do jobs, then not paying him, coming up with sob stories. He was known to be a soft touch in the community. I noticed that he’d become a little withdrawn of late.’ Mrs Blair’s wiry red hair fell over her eyes. Gina was drawn to the reflection of the fire in her irises, giving them a shimmering red glow.

  Mr Blair sat back down. ‘I had to help him now and again, you know, ask his debtors for his money. My boy was the gentlest lad in the world. It was wonderful to see him giving so much to the community but it was sad to see others taking advantage. He always did rely on us to help him out. We were a close family. He sti
ll came over most evenings, for tea and to tell us about his day.’

  ‘How had he seemed? You said he’d become withdrawn.’ Gina didn’t want to lose the conversation strand that Mrs Blair had opened up.

  Mrs Blair crossed her feet at her ankles and hunched over, hugging her knees. ‘I noticed that he seemed quieter over the past few months, a little distant. He wouldn’t tell us what was bothering him and he even walked out on us in the middle of dinner a couple of times when we’d quizzed him. There were other times I could see him looking at me, like he was about to tell me something before walking out. That wasn’t like Dale at all. Like we said, he’d always been such a mild-mannered person. If he ever thought he’d even upset someone a little, he’d feel guilty for weeks and have to put things right. This past few months though, it was as if he was troubled. Phillip wondered if someone owed him money or was giving him grief over a job. We just wanted to help. I don’t know what we said or did that was wrong. Anyway, he hadn’t visited as much recently and on the occasions that he did, we asked how he was doing and he’d tell us we were stifling him.’

  Gina could relate to that. People constantly asking if she was okay had become one of her pet hates. ‘Do you know of any enemies he may have had?’

  Both shook their heads. Mrs Blair wiped a piece of hair from her mouth. ‘Everyone loved him.’

  Gina fumbled around in her folder until she felt the shiny texture of the photo, of Susan. ‘Do you know this woman? Her name is Susan Wheeler.’ She held the photo under the lamplight.

  Mr Blair removed his glasses and squinted. ‘I saw her picture online, in the local newspaper. She’s missing, isn’t she?’

  Gina nodded.

  ‘Has she got something to do with all this?’

  This was a question she hoped the Blairs would be able to answer. ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. On the day she went missing, she was last seen leaving your son’s house. It looked like he’d hired her to do his bookkeeping.’

  ‘I always did his bookkeeping,’ Mrs Blair interjected.

  ‘We found his paperwork in her car, a couple of streets away. I’m sorry.’ It looked like Dale had sacked his mother and hired an old friend without even telling her first. ‘Do you recognise her? Not from the news but as a friend or acquaintance.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I can’t say that I recognise her.’ The woman wiped her nose again.

  ‘How about from this photo?’

  Mr and Mrs Blair looked at each other.

  She took the photo and scrutinised it a little closer. ‘That’s little Susan Collins. Such a pretty girl. She was one of Dale’s best friends back in their teens. Poor little mite. I remember taking her under my wing a bit. Her father died and her mother was always working. I’m not criticising, that was just an observation. I remember she had a sister, can’t remember her name. Her sister always came to collect her. Such a lovely girl. So, she’s the one on the news who’s missing? I recognise her now.’

  Gina nodded.

  ‘I remember Dale telling me she’d got married. He’d heard it on the grapevine. They hadn’t been in contact much since their teens but I think he tried to contact her to congratulate her. I don’t think her husband liked her having male friends even though Dale was never a contender. He never tried to contact her again after that.’

  ‘Were they ever in a relationship?’ Gina needed to subtly find out if Dale’s bed partner could have been Susan.

  Mrs Blair exhaled. ‘Dale was gay and he’d always been open about his sexuality since his mid-teens. He was seeing a man from Redditch called Lawrence. Nice man, a few years older. He came around a few times. It was lovely to see Dale so happy.’ The woman pulled her woollen skirt over her knees, stretching it to its limits. ‘We called Lawrence as soon as we heard. He’s devastated. Told us he was planning to propose to Dale when they went on holiday in the New Year.’ Mrs Blair finished the sentence off with a squeal as she let out a few little sobs. ‘We will never see Dale marry the love of his life now.’

  Mr Blair placed an arm around his wife’s shoulder and drew her towards his chest where they remained for a couple of minutes. Him stroking her hair, her placing an arm around his waist.

  Gina asked them for Lawrence’s address and phone number, then nodded to Jacob. They’d asked enough of Phillip and Cynthia Blair. She needed to leave them alone to grieve.

  Mrs Blair gently pulled away from her husband. ‘When will my son’s body be released? We need to organise the funeral. Everyone is asking when it will be.’

  ‘I’ll get someone to call you. I will also find out when you can go to his house and we thank you for your patience.’

  ‘Thank you so much. That would be appreciated. We have to go and collect the dog tomorrow. Dale’s neighbour has been lovely.’ She paused. ‘That mutt is all we have left of our beloved son.’ The woman smiled slightly when she said mutt. It was more of an endearing term, rather than a reference of annoyance.

  Gina stood and began to pull her coat back over her shoulder. A slick of damp licked her neck, sending an icy shiver through her scalp. A gust of wind howled, causing the air vent to click. As she went to take the photo from Mrs Blair, she pointed to the other girl in the photo of the three teens. ‘Do you recognise her?’

  ‘Vaguely. It was a long time ago. Occasionally she’d hang around with Susan and Dale. I can’t remember where she was from or how they knew her. She always seemed quiet and withdrawn. Such a scrawny-looking girl. I used to give them all lots of snacks, but the snacks were mostly for her benefit. She only came over a few times. What was her name, love?’

  Mr Blair shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t remember the names of our current neighbours, let alone a girl our son was friends with all those years ago.’

  The woman closed her eyes and clicked her fingers. ‘Stacey, Stella… something like that. I’m sorry, I can’t remember exactly.’

  Jacob scribbled the names down.

  ‘If you remember anything else, please call me.’ Gina placed her card on their coffee table as they left.

  As they hurried through the rain, avoiding a carrier bag that had been swept up in the gale, Gina knew it was imperative that they find the girl in the photo. It felt as though she was the missing piece. She made a quick call, asking that uniform try to call on Dale’s partner, Lawrence.

  She couldn’t let go of the fact that Susan had abandoned her friendship with Dale due to Ryan Wheeler’s jealousy, her angry, dominant husband.

  Forty-Six

  A whimper comes from the cell. I like to call it the cell even though I know it’s just a room. A dark dank room, the holder of dark dank secrets which I intend to lock the door on, once and for all. You will all die, our little gang will be no more and me; I’ll be long gone with a smile on my face, taking with me the replacement for what you all stole from me – she’s so beautiful, innocent too. I get to start again and you will have all paid the ultimate price. One down, another two to go.

  I suck hard, then exhale a plume of vanilla vapour into the torch-lit room. Vanilla Dreams, my latest favourite. I have dreams and they’ve sat in a box for years. Now I get to come out of the dark and finally live mine. The torch flickers and I’m plunged into pitch-black darkness.

  The pigeons coo in the eaves then a fight breaks out. They flutter and squawk before finally settling again. If I had a gun, I wouldn’t think twice about blowing them away – vermin. I snatch the torch and bang it several times on the decaying wall, debris chippings scattering everywhere. Eventually, it flickers back to life. It’s okay, there’s no one around to hear me banging or you whimpering, although I wish you would just button it, Susan. No one is coming and you are next.

  I gaze around as I take another puff of Vanilla Dreams. This building is so manky, even the kids stopped coming here to party. Besides, the tall barbed wire fence has put them off. Not me – no one ever comes here which is why it is the best place ever. It’s mine, all mine.

  Grabbing a coup
le of batteries, I’m plunged back into darkness as I replace them. I don’t know if I can call what I stand on a floor. Everything is decayed and stinks of mould as the very foundations mourn their glory days. I still remember it after the original renovations, newly decorated, beautiful sanded floors and bursting with life. Not any more. If I hadn’t been driven away, if you hadn’t taken my life from me, things would have been different.

  I didn’t want this.

  I didn’t ask for this.

  Sleeping dogs should be left to lie.

  But, when you’ve lost everything and the past comes back to taunt you, there is only one option.

  I grab the large kitchen knife from the floor and drive it through the photo, pinning it to the mould-infested plasterboard, knife tip piercing her right eye. ‘I’m coming for you next, darling,’ I say as I grab my vape and suck. ‘You’ll need more than a burglar alarm to keep me away.’

  The whimpers are louder. You were meant to enjoy your surprise, Susan, but you were never grateful for anything. Time to sort you out. Everything is merely a problem to be sorted and once all the problems are sorted, the problems will be no more. Simple pimple as we used to say back then.

  I grab the torch, lighting the way as I crunch on the debris below. This building, the keeper of secrets, was crumbling around me. It will crumble completely soon but I won’t be here when it does.

  Glancing back at the photo, I grin. ‘I bet you’ve missed me Snow White. He’s coming, then all your nightmares will come back to haunt you.’

  I grab my phone and send the message. He will do as I say. She is his loose end as much as mine and if I need to remind him, I will. In the meantime, Susan is calling. ‘Coming,’ I yell as I hurry along the corridor. But, I must hurry. There is something more pressing I need to do and it can’t wait.