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

by Carla Kovach

  Staring at her reflection and a more recent photo of her mother, Gina pinned the length of her hair under her nape. Her mother’s last hairstyle had been that of a dyed brown bob, just like Mary’s.

  She finished the look with a swish of her mother’s pale pink lipstick. She leaned back and took in the final look. She looked nothing like her mother. Yes, she had the same almond-shaped eyes and fairly high cheekbones, but her mother was fuller lipped and had a slightly rounder chin. She threw the make-up and photos back into the box and placed the lid on. As she glanced back, she almost saw Mary in the mirror.

  Closing her eyes and finishing off the bottle of beer she’d started when she came in, she shook her hair. Mary was gone, for now.

  As her phone rang, she almost fell back from her numb knees into the bed. She went to snatch the phone but missed and the call ended. She immediately called Briggs back.

  ‘Gina. I thought you weren’t going to answer. I said I’d call.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Can we not do the sir thing?’

  ‘Chris.’ She pushed the box under her bed, out of the way.

  ‘Thank you. Any more thoughts.’

  Yes, she thought Mary was her mother reincarnated, yet she wasn’t a believer and Mary would have been alive when her mother was. She almost let out a giggle at her silly thoughts. She removed the clips from her hair and shook them out, getting rid of Mary and her mother at the same time. All three of them had been sharing a reflection a moment ago, now only Gina was left. ‘I’ve been going over everything so far. Nothing more to add to earlier.’

  ‘A phone call came in a short while ago. It’s to do with the case.’

  Her interest piqued. ‘Genuine or another one for the no-go or maybe the at-a-push pile?’

  ‘It was a woman, she was being followed by a man and sounded terrified. She barely got her words out, wasn’t making much sense even when we played the recording back. The number wasn’t even withheld. It’s the number of a phone box in Cleevesford. Who uses a phone box any more?’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Uniform were despatched. When they got there, it was empty and no one was around.’

  ‘What has this got to do with the case?’ Gina grabbed a tissue and began wiping off the lipstick. What had she been doing? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  ‘She kept mentioning Dale’s name before bursting into tears and ending the call.’

  Gina’s shoulders stiffened. ‘And she was nowhere to be seen? Did they look hard enough? What if something happened to her? They need to keep looking.’

  ‘Uniform are still making enquiries in the area, I say uniform, there’s only a couple of them out there. The rest are keeping a look out for Phoebe Wheeler. Believe me, they are doing all they can. Try to get some sleep and we’ll have a catch-up when you come in in the morning. I’m off to bed in the hope that we’ll get woken with news that they’ve found her.’

  ‘I hope so. With Dale dead and Susan and Phoebe missing, where does that leave our mystery caller? Poor woman. She must have been petrified.’ Gina’s mind wandered. Maybe Susan was dead but they just hadn’t found her body. The red liquorice link was confusing things.

  ‘We need to start searching: areas of woodland, fields, parks, places like where Dale was found by the river. I’m worried that Susan’s body may be out there somewhere and this woman is potentially the third victim. And Phoebe? Where is she?’ Gina clenched her fists. ‘We need to do it.’ Gina’s mind flashed back to the girl in the photo, the scrawny smaller girl with Susan and Dale. Could the three of them be a target for some reason? ‘I’ll make the call and arrange a search for first light. We may need more officers from surrounding areas, Redditch, Bromsgrove, Worcester and a dog team.’

  She made a mental note to ask Wyre to tell Mary what they were doing. The family would need to know as the press would soon be onto them once the search was underway.

  ‘I totally agree. Susan has been missing for days with no word. Her daughter has now gone. Do you fancy a drink after you’ve made the call? Last orders won’t be called for a good,’ he paused, ‘hour.’

  She glanced at her watch. Her bedroom felt unlived in and uncared for. With her ever-increasing pile of laundry and uninviting bed where the fitted sheet had slipped off, it didn’t at all feel homely. ‘Pick me up, I’ve had a beer.’

  ‘It’s a date.’

  ‘It’s not a date. It’s a work meeting with a favourite colleague. We can organise the search.’ She wasn’t sure if she meant what she’d just said because the way her lonely heart was flipping, she’d willingly go for a walk down a dark alley with Jack the Ripper at this moment in time.

  As she slipped on her jeans, she kept thinking of the woman in the phone box, scared and alone and now nowhere to be seen. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of Phoebe – it didn’t feel real. One thing for sure was that she’d be searching all avenues for their scared woman. They had to get to her before the killer did.

  Then there was Briggs. It was not a date; they had too much work to discuss anyway. This little evening rendezvous was a meeting. Nothing more.

  Fifty-Two

  Briggs placed the beer on the table and she grabbed the bottle, taking a swig. ‘I need to find the girl. Hell, I need to find Susan. Why isn’t it all coming together?’

  ‘We have the dog search tomorrow. It’s all arranged now.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t want the search to bring anything up. The last thing I want is another body. I don’t want Susan or poor Phoebe lying on a slab.’ Gina ran her fingers through her tangled hair, the stickiness of the beer mingling with the hairspray she put on just before Briggs arrived. ‘What are your thoughts on Ryan Wheeler? You’ve read the case notes so far.’

  He nodded as he took a sip of his cola. His large hands circled the rim of the dewy glass as he allowed himself to become lost in thought. ‘I wouldn’t trust him. He’s had opportunity, motive and he’s certainly aggressive enough from what you say. He’s also attacked Dale Blair in the past. But, we don’t have enough to pull him in on.’

  ‘Agreed. But then we have Phoebe. What happened to her? She went out while he was being interviewed by us.’

  ‘But how long was she out for before she also went missing? He was only with us for about an hour then, from what you told me, he rushed off. Did he pick up his daughter on the way home? Why would he be doing all this? We are working on the fact that there are two people involved in Dale’s murder. We are also working on the theory that both Dale’s murder and Susan’s disappearance are linked. The photo of the three children suggest something links them both to an incident in the past. What started all this off? That’s the hardest piece of the puzzle to crack. Identify the catalyst, then the motive unfolds along with any suspects.’ He placed his hand around his neck and rubbed it. ‘How are you?’

  Gina rolled her eyes. ‘You know me.’

  He nodded and smiled as he picked at a beer mat. A bell rang, calling last orders. ‘You want another?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She enjoyed feeling the alcohol coursing through her veins and she was enjoying the heat that was flushing through her body.

  As Briggs hurried to the bar to buy another drink, she watched him reach into his trouser pocket and pull his wallet out. He glanced back as he loosened his tie and undid his top button. He rubbed his stubble as he waited for the barman to ring up the transaction before heading back to the table. ‘Another beer, it is. You don’t normally drink beer.’

  ‘I don’t normally go to the pub.’ She giggled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You and me in the pub.’ Her giggle turned into a frown as she tried to suppress what was really on her mind.

  ‘I won’t ask if you’re okay.’

  She paused for a moment while staring at the bar. A group of men left and the place quietened down a little. ‘My mother used to drink beer out of the bottle like this, not all the time but she enjoyed it.’ She looked away as she swallowed her e
motions back.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’m having happy thoughts for a change. It’s nice to not think about the bad things.’

  He leaned in a little closer and placed his hand over hers, cocking his head in a sympathetic way as he waited for her to continue. He knew a little about her abusive past.

  ‘I wish I’d have been there for her when she was dying and I wasn’t. You can hate me now.’

  ‘I’m sure you had your reasons.’

  She gulped the rest of the beer down in one.

  ‘Steady on, you’re not going to feel good in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll deal with that in the morning. Terry would never allow me to go anywhere. My mother would have helped me to escape his hold, I just couldn’t reach out to her.’

  ‘Reach out to me then, don’t let him have a hold on you any more.’

  She shook her head, fully aware that she was beginning to slur her words. She had to hold back. Why was he so damn easy to talk to? ‘I have to go. Can you please drop me back?’

  He removed his hand from hers then pulled his car keys from his pocket. ‘Come on then. You need a good night’s sleep before the big day tomorrow. It’s going to be an early one.’

  ‘I’m a terrible person.’ She tried to stand but her handbag was wrapped around the chair. He hurried over and untangled the strap before taking her hand and leading her out to the car park.

  ‘Do you think I’m a terrible person?’

  He shook his head and placed an arm around her. ‘Of course not. You’re the most caring person I know and I just want you to be happy.’

  She halted him in the middle of the car park, stared into his eyes and pressed her lips on his as a drizzle of icy rain chilled her sweltering body. ‘You’re a good man, Briggs.’ She dropped his hand and walked to the car, trying to open the locked door.

  He pressed the central locking. ‘Get in, Harte. Let’s get you home.’

  As he pulled off the gravel car park she instantly regretted opening up, even a little. The beer, her mother, Mary, the thoughts of Susan being under Ryan’s control. Ryan’s aggressive nature. The woman who called in from the phone box. Her mind was awhirl with the lot. Her nightmares, Terry, Hannah. Where was her life going? If only her mother was still alive. She’d at least have someone to confide in.

  As they pulled up, Briggs frowned.

  ‘Are you coming in?’

  ‘I’d love nothing more, but no.’

  ‘Come on. I’ve got a bottle of vino that needs drinking.’

  ‘Please tell me you won’t drink it. Go in, have a glass of water and go to bed. Those are my orders. You’re visiting Dale’s partner first thing and you need to be on top form. I’ll keep you updated on the dog search.’ He stroked her hair and she nodded. She gazed into his eyes as she grabbed her bag and stumbled out of his car. Her cheeks burned as he pulled away. What had she just said and done? Loneliness had got the better of her and she’d totally embarrassed herself. How pathetic of her to think that Briggs would just be switched on by her after all the times she’d rejected him.

  Fifty-Three

  Back to your shed, your sanctuary. Does it make you feel safe? That knife you grip, it’s pathetic, nothing more than something to saw bread with. I could wrestle it from your feeble hands within seconds but I won’t. For now, I’m enjoying the game, you give me too much entertainment. I deserve to enjoy your suffering. I smell your fear, I smell your sense of panic, your anxiety, your worry. That’s why you’ve never been close to anyone, you won’t allow yourself to love, to live.

  I grab my phone and hit send on the text.

  Whatever you do, don’t call the police. Don’t call anyone. I’ll be in touch. Your dear friend, Susan. We need to go back to the beginning, where it all started. I’ll explain later. I’m going back. Xxx.

  I know you, Stephanie. You won’t be able to resist going back. You’ll fight the idea for a while, but not for long. Little Susie needs you. Go along, go to Susan.

  I puff on my vape as I head through the passageway ready to go back to my lair. Ooh, who’s this calling? I knew you wouldn’t like that email.

  Fifty-Four

  Sunday, 17 November 2019

  Gina and Jacob followed Lawrence Dunn through the long dark hallway. Shivering, she hoped the room he was leading them too was a little warmer. Her head pounded despite the paracetamol she popped before leaving the house. Her face flushed as she mulled over her evening with Briggs. Ever the gentleman, he hadn’t taken advantage of her when he could see she was a little merry and down. Had she said too much to him? She wished she could remember the whole conversation.

  Lawrence held his hand out, gesturing for them to enter the snug. She could see his life had been plunged into disarray following the news of Dale’s murder.

  The gas fire instantly made for a cosier feel in the room. Blankets were piled up at one end of the settee and an empty bottle of brandy looked like it had rolled along the wooden floor into the middle of the room leaving only the slightest film of deep brown liquid pooling at the bottom. Gina looked away, that very pooling reminded her of the way the blood in Dale’s body had pooled. She swallowed as he gestured for them to sit. ‘Just dump that rubbish on the floor.’

  She grabbed the pile of magazines and newspapers and did exactly as he asked, adding to the mess. Trinkets adorned the hearth, little horse brasses on leather strips, crystal animals and a Rubik’s Cube. There was such an eclectic mix to add to this eclectic rural cottage. She gazed out of the window to where a row of three vans were lined up against a wooden fence, which led her gaze across the moody Warwickshire landscape. She’d researched Lawrence, he was in the house clearance business. Gina’s mind wandered as he opened a large bottle of beer and stared at the dancing flames as he took a swig.

  Lawrence, forty-seven years old and rough around the edges. Thick wrists and chunky fingers, strong looking. Totally bald, not a hair on his scalp – could he have been the figure that their witness, Alicia, had seen hanging around Susan Wheeler’s car? She wondered if jealousy was a motive.

  A large snake tattoo coiled around his neck, leading down his jumper. She spotted the bookshelf in the corner and honed in on some of the titles. Animal Farm, The Canterbury Tales, Wuthering Heights and many more stacked the shelves tightly, to the point it looked fit to burst. Gina didn’t consider herself well read, especially in the classics, but she had read Wuthering Heights at school. ‘You like to read?’

  ‘Yes. That surprises most people when they look at me but I have a degree in English Literature.’

  ‘How did you get into the house clearance business?’

  ‘I inherited it. I couldn’t see myself being a teacher or working in an office, I just loved books. My father did this for a living, so I eventually joined him after travelling for a few years. He died and I carried on working in the business. Dale and I were going to travel. I was going to take him to see the Taj Mahal. I spent four months backpacking around India in my twenties, then moved on to Europe. I was going to take him there and propose.’ The man took another swig of beer. The grimness of morning was beginning to lift and the sound of birdsong could just be heard. A robin bobbed on the window ledge filling its beak. ‘I put dried mealworm on the window ledge. It’s life’s little pleasures that make it.’

  Gina sunk into the old chair, its arms almost worn through to the foam. Regardless of its rough edges, the room had a cosy feel to it, she felt cocooned in warmth. ‘We’re so sorry for your loss and I know it’s soon but we needed to come and speak a little more about Dale. We found a copy of Jane Eyre on one of his bedside tables. Is it yours?’

  He nodded and leaned back. ‘Yes. I always left a book there. I’ve read it several times and it’s one of my favourites. Dale hadn’t read much up until we met, much to his parents’ dismay – they are huge readers, which is why I get on with them so well. Anyway, I started with this most-loved classic. I was reading it to him, chapter by chapter. H
e’d fall asleep after a few minutes. He never did hear a whole chapter.’ Lawrence let out a small laugh.

  ‘Can you tell me a bit more about your relationship with Dale?’

  The muscles in his jaw clenched as his gaze moved back and forth between Jacob and Gina. Jacob cleared his throat and turned a page on his notepad. Tension filled the air. ‘What’s that got to do with what happened? We had a good relationship. I was going to ask him to marry me.’

  ‘It helps us to know Dale a little better, that’s all.’ Gina needed to put him at ease. He knew she was fishing for information on his and Dale’s relationship with regard to him being a suspect. Some people she’d interviewed at this stage, didn’t really have this level of awareness and simply spoke on, Lawrence was now on high alert, but was that because he had something to be guilty about? She wasn’t sure yet. Even if he was the person hanging around Susan Wheeler’s car, he may still not have done anything to her or Dale. Had he been the person who was watching her leave Mary’s house a few nights ago? She had suspected it might be Clare. She shivered and looked away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed the change in her thoughts.

  He swallowed. ‘We were like any other couple. Yes, I know. Look at me, built like a brick shithouse and I’ll add, quite loud and outspoken in many ways. Then there’s Dale, quiet, sensitive guy – the loveable pushover I called him. But love is love. When I met him, I knew he was the one for me. We’d been together over a year and now I really don’t know how I’m going to live without him.’ He took another swig out of his bottle. ‘We argued and made up like anyone else. Nothing is ever plain sailing, is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry to ask but what did you argue about?’

  He shrugged his shoulders and slammed the bottle on the dusty coffee table. ‘This and that. Dale was trying to sort something out in his personal life but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. I got really miffed and found out he was meeting up with some old friends. It wasn’t the meeting up bit I was miffed about, it was the fact that he wouldn’t introduce me to his friends, like he was ashamed of me. It wasn’t as if we didn’t go out, people around Cleevesford knew we were a couple. What was so different about these friends?’