by Carol Wyer
‘Those exact words? Nothing else?’
‘Nothing else.’
‘Did he harm or threaten you with a blade?’
‘No.’
‘Did you get any sense of how tall or large he was?’ asked Emma.
‘He was taller than me and he had big hands. They covered all my nose and mouth.’
‘Were they rough or smooth?’
‘Smooth-ish.’
‘Did you happen to notice if the backs of his hands were hairy at all?’
‘No. I couldn’t see them.’
‘Do you remember any particular smell, maybe aftershave or deodorant? Every detail, no matter how minor, could help us.’
‘Sorry, no. I was struggling to breathe. I don’t remember any smell.’
Kate spoke up at last. ‘Did you hear any car engines or noise soon after he left?’
‘There were cars in the background but the noise was probably coming from the main road.’
‘Did you hear an engine fire up nearby?’
She rubbed her lips together and stared into the distance. There was no noise other than a barely audible ticking from a peach-faced clock on the wall. The second hand jerked through thirty degrees before Bianca finally answered. ‘I can’t remember for certain, but I think I heard what sounded like a motorbike start up.’
Tilly rang as they were on their way back. She sounded flustered. ‘I’ve left my purse with my credit cards and money in the locker at Greg’s. The place is shut up and I can’t get hold of him on his mobile. I’ve been trying to get hold of Emma. I think she has a key for the place.’
‘Emma’s here with me. She can hear you.’
‘Hi, Tilly. Greg’s at a martial arts event in London. He’ll have his mobile switched off.’
‘Oh, bugger. Can anyone else let me in?’
‘Only me. He went with Chevy, who’s the only other person with a key.’
‘I know it’s a total pain in the bum, but is there any way you could meet me there? I haven’t any cash on me and I’ve just had to abandon an entire trolley of shopping in the supermarket.’
‘Sure. I’ve got a key on me. We can scoot by on our way back to the station.’ She glanced at Kate as she spoke and received a nod of consent. ‘We’ll meet you there in about half an hour. Is that okay?’
‘You’re an absolute life saver. Thank you so much. I’ll see if I can get the supermarket to hang on to the goods for me until I can get back and pay for them. See you there.’
The phone went dead and Emma asked, ‘Did you two always get on so well?’
‘Not at first. We grew to like each other and then, yes, we got along really well.’ Kate didn’t wish to divulge too much about her past life.
‘I’d have loved a sister. Living with seven brothers was heavy going. They tended to either ignore me or torment me. I suppose it was good training for standing on my own two feet. Couldn’t stand it in the end and went to live with Gran. I get on best with Greg. He was always the kindest to me.’
‘You see much of the others?’
She shook her head. ‘They’ve pretty much gone their separate ways. Now and again, we meet up to celebrate some event, but generally we keep out of each other’s way. I often wonder what it would have been like to have had a sister.’
‘They steal your make-up and clothes and try to get out of housework when it’s their turn to do it.’
‘Bit like my brothers then,’ said Emma, with a chuckle.
The martial arts academy was a non-descript unit, housed in the corner of a business park. A blue board, bearing the name Greg’s, didn’t give away what might be inside the building. There was no sign of Tilly so Emma unlocked the door and beckoned Kate inside, snapping on the main light to illuminate the space, far bigger than Kate had imagined from outside. Fans whirred, swirling the aroma of pine disinfectant into the atmosphere.
‘You’ve never been here, have you?’ said Emma. ‘Let me give you a quick tour. Obviously, this is where we have fights or practice fights,’ she said, as they passed the boxing ring.
‘What about training kit? Where do you keep that?’ asked Kate.
Emma pointed to the line of mirrors that ran the length of the room. ‘The mirrors slide open and all the equipment is stored in the cupboards behind them. It keeps the place free of clutter and helps avoid accidents: somebody tripping over a skipping rope or slipping on a pad.’
She moved through an open archway into another room, far lighter than the first, illuminated by light coming in from the half-dozen skylights. ‘This is where I tend to do most of my training.’ The floor was clear with floormats rolled and stacked in a large open box. Six punchbags hung from hooks and in the corner were three dummies.
‘This is where I’ve been training with Tilly, although she’s been using the resistance equipment in the next room, as well. There’s also a studio for classes, changing rooms and Greg’s office.’
It was a professional set-up and Kate was impressed at how far back the unit extended, belying its unprepossessing frontage. ‘Those the dummies you use to practise strikes on?’
‘That’s right.’ She blinked a few times. ‘I’ve had a sudden thought. I wonder if our killer has a dummy of his own to practise on. He might not even train at a gym at all.’
‘I hope not. I’m banking on him using a gym.’
‘Me too. He’d have had to learn it from somewhere professional and if we assume he’s only started using the manoeuvre on his victims in recent months, we still might be able to track him down.’
Kate blew out her cheeks. ‘You have no idea how much I want to find him. I’m worried sick he’ll attack again. Every hour that goes by, I wonder if he isn’t stalking his next victim or assaulting her.’
‘At least we know we’re searching for the same man who attacked Bianca. It was almost the same MO, holding her down, raping her, and it can’t be a coincidence he spoke the very same words, “You’re mine”.’
There was a small gasp from behind them. Tilly’s hand was pressed against her lips.
‘Tilly?’ Kate moved towards her stepsister. The colour had drained from her face. ‘Tilly, what did you hear?’
Tilly shook her head. ‘Not much. You were talking about a rapist.’
Emma looked sheepish. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘It’s okay. I should have coughed or something,’ said Tilly, regaining her composure. ‘Thanks for meeting me here. I’ve managed to convince the supermarket to look after my trolley. I didn’t fancy going around again and selecting everything.’
‘I’ll fetch your purse for you,’ said Emma.
‘Oh, thanks.’ Tilly watched as Emma disappeared then faced Kate, her voice an urgent whisper. ‘I heard everything about the man who rapes and kills, Kate. “You’re mine.” Kate, the man who raped me said exactly the same words.’
Something exploded in Kate’s head. ‘What?’ she whispered.
‘That’s what he said when he’d finished with me. “You’re mine.”’
Two decades had passed since Tilly was raped. What was the likelihood of this attacker being the same person?
‘I . . . Shit, Tilly! What do I do?’
‘You can’t tell anyone. Not Emma, not anyone. Please. I don’t want to be dragged back into it.’
‘But I have to. It’s vital information.’
Tilly reached for her hands, held them in her cool ones. ‘No. I beg you. No.’ Hearing footsteps, she broke away, feigned a casual stance.
‘Here you go,’ said Emma, holding out the purse.
‘You are an angel. Thanks so much. I have to rush off. Daniel’s waiting in the car.’
‘See you in the morning?’
‘Hope so. I won’t bring this though. In case I forget it again.’ She waved it in the air. ‘Bye. See you soon, Kate.’
She half-jogged, back through the archway.
‘I hope I didn’t scare her, talking about the investigation,’ said Emma.
‘No. I spoke to her while you were in the changing room. She’s fine. She was just taken by surprise.’ Although she knew full well she should tell Emma everything, the horrified, pleading expression on Tilly’s face was engraved on her retinas. She couldn’t allow Tilly to become part of the investigation. She was doing her utmost to put the past behind her. This was one angle she would have to investigate alone.
Even though the bath water’s gone cold, he doesn’t move. His feet are propped up by the taps, his yellowing toenails on display. The empty bottle of bath and shower gel is beside him, its top floating in the water, and the scent of ginger and lemon is on his flesh. Water drips from the tap, but still he lies there. Something has gone wrong. The excitement, the adrenaline, the euphoria, have all vanished.
Daisy had been an ideal substitute. Exactly like his first love. And yet, once he’d knocked her out and dragged her to nearby bushes to molest her, he’d had no arousal. He’d abandoned her limp body in the undergrowth and, before she fully regained consciousness, raced away. The desire had vanished.
He stares unblinking at the cream ceiling and the light where a spider twists and turns and dangles on its gossamer thread before climbing back up it, industrious in creating a new web. He has no problem with spiders. They’re only hunting prey much as he does. He employs the same techniques: captures his prey, paralyses it and, when finished, dispatches it. Disappointment fills his chest cavity, swelling like an ever-inflating balloon until he thinks he might explode.
The spider has swung across to the extractor fan and is descending rapidly on a fresh invisible thread, like a soldier abseiling from a dizzy height. It comes to a rapid halt above his head and begins its patient swaying. He watches it gather momentum, swinging backwards and forwards, the hypnotic motion bringing clarity to his thoughts. His failure to follow through was down to one person – her. She’s wormed her way back into his fantasies and it is her face he sees every time instead of his victim’s.
He messaged Tilly earlier and a meeting is definitely on the cards. It is now down to her. He can’t wait much longer. His victims no longer arouse him. He only wants what he should never have let escape. He’s had Tilly once and he is going to have her again.
And this time he won’t let her escape.
He will end it once and for all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kate’s decision not to drag Tilly into the investigation was playing on her mind. She’d crossed another line by keeping the personal connection secret. The only way to justify her actions was to use what she knew about her stepsister to her advantage, and locate the killer.
Tilly had been attacked in Uttoxeter, so if Kate added that location and Rocester to the map they already had triangulated in the office, it suggested the killer lived somewhere within a fifteen-mile square radius. Who had Tilly known who still lived in the area? With the question came a lightbulb moment – Ryan Holder, the man she’d been messaging and was planning on meeting. She dialled Tilly’s number immediately.
‘Tilly, I’ve been thinking about who might have attacked you. You said they knew you. Could it have been Ryan?’
There was a pause and a little chuckle. ‘No, Kate. Ryan was one of the shyest and most courteous boys I went out with – a proper little gentleman! He even asked if he could kiss me the first time we snogged, and apologised afterwards in case he wasn’t any good. I was more forward, but he wouldn’t follow my lead, if you get my meaning, so we spent most of our time together simply holding hands and chatting. Ashar, his friend, was more mature, more grown up and experienced, even though they were the same age. I guess that’s why Ryan and I get on so well now. We didn’t ruin things back then.’
‘What about Ashar?’
‘No. He’s married to a gorgeous woman, has three kids and lives in Hertfordshire. I friended and messaged him on Facebook too, but his response was lukewarm. I don’t think he even remembered me. Not heard from him since.’
‘Have you connected with anyone else from school on social media?’
‘Quite a few girls, but only those two boys, well, men now.’
‘Can you think of anyone else, Tilly? One of our parents’ friends who might have said something suggestive to you, a neighbour?’
‘No. Although I bumped into somebody in Uttoxeter, the local butcher. Do you remember Wayne Grimshaw?’
Wayne left school the year after Tilly joined. For a while, he’d shown a great deal of interest in her stepsister, walking her home from school and hanging out with her. He’d been a thuggish-looking boy, with a shaven head and an earring he refused to remove. He’d hated school, backchatted the teachers and was frequently seen outside the headteacher’s office. Tilly had been attracted to the rebellious Wayne, who suited her own non-conformist attitude. They’d shared cigarettes and alcohol and probably drugs, although Kate couldn’t be sure about the latter. When Wayne got expelled for hitting a teacher, he and Tilly drifted apart.
‘I remember him. Why have you brought up his name?’
It went quiet at Tilly’s end.
‘Tilly?’
‘I was walking down Uttoxeter High Street with Daniel, and he came out of nowhere, shouting my name and when he caught up with me, he swept me up in a bearhug. It was . . . embarrassing. I couldn’t wait to get away from him.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. He reeled off a load of things we’d got up to, none of which I could remember, including skipping off school to go to town, so he whipped out his wallet to show me a photograph of the two of us, taken in a photo booth in the Post Office. On the day of the attack. He remembered almost everything we’d done together. The whole thing was surreal. Freaky even. I’d completely forgotten all about him. He was all for ditching work and coming bowling with Daniel and me until I told him I was meeting my husband at the CineBowl. Luckily Daniel didn’t say anything.’
‘And how did Wayne react to that news?’
‘Best word for it would be crestfallen, I suppose. He patted Daniel on the head and sloped off. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I was too keen to get away.’
Surely Tilly would have recognised his voice if it had been Wayne who’d attacked her, although she’d said his voice had been muffled by a balaclava and he’d spoken in a low growl. It was still possible he’d been her rapist.
‘I’ll pay him a visit.’
‘You haven’t told anyone at the station about what happened to me, have you?’
‘No, but you know I ought to. I’m running a massive risk keeping this to myself.’
‘But if you tell them, you’ll be removed from the case, won’t you? Isn’t that how it works? If there’s a conflict of interest and you can’t be objective, you’ll have to hand over to somebody else.’
‘That’s not why I’m keeping your name out of it. I would happily pass it across if it meant this perpetrator was found. I’m doing this because you asked me to and I don’t want you to regress. You’re trying to put it behind you.’
There was soft sigh and a relieved ‘Thank you. You understand, and that means so much to me.’
Was she really doing it purely for Tilly’s sake or was part of her desperate not to give Dickson recourse to remove her from the investigation?
‘Hang on a sec, Daniel is shouting for me. He’s going on a sleepover next door tonight. You’d think he was moving in with them. Oh, and I messaged Ryan to suggest we meet up tonight.’
‘In a busy place?’
‘Of course. The Queen Anne pub. I’ll text or ring you if there are any problems. I’ll even make up that I need to visit the washroom and send you a text while I’m there, to let you know how it’s going and to put your mind at ease.’
‘You don’t have to go that far. Well, I suppose you could fill me in on how much he’s changed.’ She couldn’t wrap her sister up in cotton wool.
‘He’s certainly better-looking than he used to be, but still seems sweet-natured. I’m looking forward to seeing him. Oh, there’s Daniel shouting a
gain. He probably wants to pack all his dinosaurs.’
‘You get off. If you think of anyone else I should speak to, message me.’
‘Love you, Kate. Thank you for being there for me.’
‘Always.’
As with many high streets, the shops’ identities had altered over time, but the only thing different about the butcher’s shop was the name. Grimshaw the Butcher was written in thirty-centimetre-high letters across the front window. The pink flesh of the cuts of meat, expertly displayed in the cabinet, made Kate’s stomach flip: pork chops facing all in the same direction, garnished with blobs of parsley to make them more appealing, next to trays of diced meat. The sight of so much raw flesh made her feel slightly nauseous. She fumbled for a mint to suck, all the while watching the square-shouldered man behind the counter. His meat cleaver rose and fell with precision as he portioned a side of beef, before tossing steaks onto a piece of greaseproof paper laid out on the scales. She opened the door, and a mournful bee-beep announced her arrival.
‘Won’t be a sec,’ said Wayne. The customer had completed his order, so Wayne folded the paper into a neat parcel and passed it across the counter.
Kate took the opportunity to study his features. The deep-set eyes and shaven head were the same, but he’d muscled up over the years and his turned-up overall sleeves strained over thick forearms covered in tattoos. The man paid up and left the shop. Wayne wiped his hands on a towel.
‘Right, what can I get you? We’ve got a great deal on brisket today.’
She placed her ID card on the counter. ‘I’m here on police business. Would it be possible to have a quick word with you?’
‘What about?’ The door opened as he spoke and another customer entered. ‘Okay. Come around the back. We can talk outside. Gavin, can you take over here, mate?’ He motioned for her to follow him.
Weeds poked up between cobbles in the enclosed yard. Two wooden gates were closed to the road beyond. Judging by the dark oil stain spread in the centre of the courtyard, this was where they parked the delivery van. Wayne lit a cigarette, dragged on it and lifted his face to the sky, releasing the smoke between pursed lips. ‘What do you want to talk to me about?’
