Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021)

by Robin Roughley

  Seconds later, she was on her knees by his side, her hands hovering over him, the tears springing from her eyes, all thoughts of her plight with Scott Clark were swept from her mind.

  'Dad!' she whispered, her voice trembling with fear as he remained unmoving.

  Suddenly, Morgan Pence was back on her feet and flying up the stairs, screaming out her mother's name as she dashed along the landing, hair flying, the tears slick on her pale cheeks.

  25

  Blue lights flashed out, splashing over the rain-slicked tarmac as Bannister and Lasser stood at the entrance to the crime scene tent and looked down at the body.

  'What a bloody mess,' the DCI sighed as the camera flashlight went off illuminating the grisly scene.

  Lasser glanced at Monty Marsh as he moved closer to the body and snapped off another image, a close up of the head, a mask of gore, ragged raw flesh flecked with brain matter and shards of shattered skull.

  Monty turned and looked at the pair of them, his face solemn. 'Looks like a shotgun blast to me.'

  Lasser nodded in agreement as Bannister leaned down slightly.

  'He only looks like a kid; I mean, look at the clothes he's wearing.'

  'Could be the oldest swinger in town,' Monty offered.

  Bannister threw him a harsh look and Monty held up a hand.

  'It was just a suggestion.'

  'A daft one,' Bannister said and then sighed. 'Sorry, Monty, I don't mean to be a miserable bastard.'

  Marsh looked surprised at the apology and then he shrugged his heavy shoulders.

  'Nah, you were right, there's a time and place for an idiotic comment and this isn't it.'

  Lasser watched the two men and then Bannister smiled grimly.

  'Forgiven,' he mumbled as the rain dripped off the hood of his jacket.

  'Well, I've done here, so I'll catch you later,' Monty said as he strode away into the rain.

  Thrusting hands into his pockets, Bannister looked at Lasser.

  'What do you reckon?' he asked nodding down at the body.

  Lasser followed his gaze, the rain pummelling them, then he turned and looked along the road. 'He could have been shot from a car.'

  'Explain?'

  'Well, his feet are facing the road, shot once at close range and the blast threw him back to here.'

  Bannister looked at the body before glancing at the rain slick carriageway. 'You could be right.'

  'If the victim had been walking along the pavement and shot from the front or the back then he wouldn't have been facing the road. I mean, there are no houses for the next three hundred yards or so in either direction.'

  'Meaning?'

  Before Lasser could answer, a shout went up and they turned to find Spenner standing twenty feet away to their left, his arm raised in the air as he beckoned them over.

  'What have you found? Bannister asked as they approached.

  Spenner aimed the torch at the ground, the beam illuminating a small shoulder bag, the clasp shining in the light.

  Lasser felt the sudden sense of unease slip into his brain and he knew that both Bannister and Spenner were feeling the same way.

  'Shit,' the DCI hissed, snapping on gloves before leaning down and picking the bag up. He flicked the clasp, even in the rain-drenched air they all caught the faint whiff of perfume as he opened it.

  Spenner shone the light inside to reveal a jumble of makeup – lipstick and gloss, mascara – and a small bottle of perfume.

  Turning, Lasser looked back to where the body lay, the sense of unease turning to trepidation. Suddenly his mind pictured the scene, the couple walking along the road, the car pulling up to the roadside, the roar of the shotgun tearing into the victim's head, then the unknown woman or girl turning and running, trying to get away from the horror until she was caught right here and…

  'There's an umbrella,' Spenner said as the light picked up the metal spines of an umbrella in the roadside scrubland, the wind had blown it back into the brambles, but judging by the condition, Lasser suspected that the victim had been carrying it and as she ran, she had thrown it to one side concentrating instead on trying to escape the horror.

  'There were two of them,' Bannister said, his voice full of dread.

  Lasser looked at him and nodded. 'That's what it looks like.'

  When Bannister's phone rang, he dropped the bag in the evidence pouch Spenner was holding out.

  'Make sure SOCO get that, will you, John?' he asked.

  'Course, boss.'

  Lasser turned and headed back to the body, going in the tent and looking down at the clothing, clean, new-looking Nike trainers and black jeans, the white T-shirt speckled with blood, the short leather jacket open. Easing to his haunches, Lasser tentatively reached into the inner pocket to find it empty, then he did the same with the side pockets, when he felt the phone, he lifted it free and tapped at the screen. When the message appeared asking him to enter the password he sighed, before rising to his feet.

  Going back outside, he tried to picture the scene but all he could see were lights to the left and right, squad cars blocking the road to stop people driving by.

  'Lasser!' Bannister suddenly shouted, and he turned to find the DCI striding towards him, his face animated.

  'That was Carole, half an hour ago a woman turned up at the station to report her daughter missing.'

  Lasser could hear the rain drumming a tattoo on the hood of his jacket as he waited for Bannister to continue.

  'Clara Bell, aged fifteen, went out last night to a party and never made it home.'

  'Fifteen?' Lasser asked as the unease closed ever tighter around his heart.

  'Yeah, she's in the last year at Mornington Road High.'

  'Did she say if her daughter had gone with anyone to the party?'

  Beneath the hood Bannister sniffed. 'A lad named Scott Clark, he picked her up last night, according to the mother the party was somewhere here on Castle Hill.'

  'Christ,' Lasser said as he thrust the hood back and tilted his head, letting the rain pummel his face.

  'Some bastard killed the boy and snatched the girl,' Bannister said in a voice loaded with dread.

  All Lasser could do was nod in agreement as the rain continued to batter his senses.

  26

  Emma Brice pulled through the gates and parked the car on the left before turning the lights and engine off.

  She'd spent the night trying to decide what to do but, in the end, sleep had evaded her, and she had paced the small flat like a caged animal.

  Now here she was with the rain slapping on the windscreen, the wind blowing hard as she hesitated, then with a sigh she pushed the door open just as another car pulled through the gates, a black Audi that parked close to the station entrance.

  Climbing out, Emma felt the wind toss her hair and pulled the hood up on her jacket, before hurrying forward through the wind and rain.

  By the time she reached the entrance, a fair-haired woman in her thirties was sliding a card through the slot, and she smiled at Emma as she pulled the door open and stepped inside.

  'Excuse me, but I wonder if you could help me?' she asked.

  Odette ushered her inside out of the squally weather.

  'If I can, I will.'

  Pushing back the hood, Emma blew a strand of hair from her face. 'Do you work here?'

  Odette nodded. 'DI Noble,' she slid the zipper down on her jacket. 'Now, what can I do for you?'

  'It's about my flatmate, I think something could have happened to her.'

  Odette looked closely at the woman and felt her own pulse quicken. 'Could you be more specific?'

  'I share a flat with a friend, her name's Julie Rawlins and we both work at the hospital, but the thing is I haven't seen her in almost two days, she hasn't been home, and I haven't been able to contact her. That's not like Julie, and then I saw the news about the murder and…'

  'Look, why don't we go inside and get a coffee, then you can tell me about Julie?'

&nb
sp; Emma hesitated for a moment and then nodded, following Odette into the reception area and turning left before heading along a narrow corridor.

  Odette stopped for a moment to check that the canteen was empty before pushing the door open.

  'Tea or Coffee?' she asked making her way to the drinks machine.

  'Er, coffee please, white with no sugar.'

  Feeding change into the slot, Odette tapped at the buttons before turning. 'Now, can you tell me the last time you saw Julie?'

  'Thursday afternoon, I was working a two till ten shift, and I saw her just before I left for work.'

  'Had she been working that day?'

  Emma shook her head. 'No, she's been off for the week, annual leave.'

  'Did she have anything planned?' Odette asked as she lifted the cup from the holder and placed it on the table before gesturing for Emma to take a seat.

  'Not that I know of and to be honest, by the time I got back from work I just assumed she was in bed, so I thought nothing of it. When I got up in the morning there was no sign of her, but I figured she must have gone shopping or for a walk.'

  'And when you got back from work you started to worry?' Odette asked, inside she could sense the distress building.

  'That's right, and this morning I tried ringing her, but her phone was off, and so I went into her bedroom, but the bed looked as if it hadn't been slept in, and then I saw the news, and I thought it best to come here and let you know.'

  Odette nodded in understanding. 'Can you tell me if Julie was in a relationship?'

  'She had been going out with a guy, but it finished over six months ago.'

  'How old is she?' Odette asked, making sure she didn't use the past tense.

  'Twenty-three, we've shared the same flat for the past two years, and we get along great but none of this feels right. Julie will always either text or ring some time during the day, her phone is never off, and I do the same, we watch out for one another, you know?'

  'Of course,' Odette paused, 'so she has no partner, no one she perhaps has talked about, but you have never met?'

  'No, believe me we told one another everything, and after the last break-up she said she wanted to forget about men for a while and concentrate on the job.'

  Rain lashed at the window, although daylight had arrived the air still looked grey and drab.

  'Her last relationship ended badly?' Odette asked.

  Emma sighed, the distress growing in her eyes. 'His name was Paul Endon, and the truth is he was a bit of an idiot.'

  'In what way?'

  'He cheated on Julie, she was heading home after a late shift and she saw him in town with another woman, so she confronted him, he came out with some lame excuse, but that was it, Julie dumped him.'

  'And how did he take that?'

  'Well, I know for a couple of weeks he kept ringing, trying to worm his way back in, but she was having none of it.'

  'Did he leave her alone?'

  Emma nibbled her bottom lip. 'He got the message,' she paused, 'the woman who died, have you any idea who she is yet?'

  Placing her hands on the tabletop, Odette shook her head. 'I'm afraid not.'

  'Oh God, I just know it's going to be her, I just know it,' Emma's voice broke, and her eyes were suddenly shimmering with tears.

  'I don't suppose you have a picture of Julie?' Odette asked.

  Taking a huge gulp of air, Emma slipped the phone from her pocket, tapped at the screen, before holding it out, and Odette felt her stomach plummet as she recognised the image. She had looked at the pictures taken by Monty Marsh of the dead woman and now here she was, smiling from the screen, the image showed her and Emma dressed for a night on the town, their faces close together as they smiled for the selfie.

  When Emma Brice saw the look of sadness in Odette's eyes she burst into tears as her worst nightmare suddenly became reality.

  27

  Lasser had the phone on loudspeaker as Odette told them about Emma Brice turning up at the station, concerned about her missing friend.

  He was behind the wheel, Bannister by his side, the wipers moving back and forth shifting the rain.

  'And you're sure it's her?' the DCI asked.

  'Positive, but I'm just on my way to see Doc Shannon to double check,' she paused, 'how are things at your end?'

  'Bloody awful,' Bannister said. 'We think we have names for them both, the dead lad is Scott Clark, the girl Clara Bell.'

  'And you think she was snatched after Clark was murdered?'

  'It looks that way, we found what we think are Clara's handbag and umbrella less than twenty feet from the dead lad.' Bannister explained. 'Lasser thinks Clark was shot from a passing vehicle, and I agree with him.'

  'Then the killer took the girl?' Odette asked with a heavy sigh of distress.

  'Yeah, but the question is does this have anything to do with the murder of Julie Rawlins,' Bannister pondered to himself.

  'Too early to say,' Lasser replied.

  Bannister seemed to shake himself his eyes focusing. 'OK, Odette, you get the definite on Rawlins and then we need to know everything about the woman.'

  'I've asked Shaun to look into it, he's running checks as we speak.'

  'Have you heard anything back from Black?' Lasser suddenly asked.

  'Nothing, but you know what he's like, he'll be trying to keep his powder dry until it suits him.'

  Bannister flicked ash through the window. 'Forget about him, we have more to concern ourselves with than that prick. We're going to have to go and see the parents of Clark and Bell, but keep us in the loop, Odette.'

  'Will do and good luck.'

  The phone flashed and Lasser slipped it back into his pocket.

  'Right, Sergeant, we go and see Clara's parents first.'

  'Because there's a chance she could still be alive?' Lasser asked.

  Bannister tossed the cigarette into the rain before turning. 'Christ, I bloody hope so.'

  Checking the mirrors, Lasser pulled away from the kerb, the wipers on top speed but still struggling to clear the rain, the mood fraught with tension as they drove through the downpour.

  28

  Morgan cowered in the corridor, chewing her fingernails as she waited for her mother to return from seeing the doctor.

  Through the window, she could see her father in the hospital bed, a tube coming out of his nose, needles in his arms, the machine by the side of the bed showed a green line that seemed to spike every few seconds, her heart was thundering in her chest, tears shining in her eyes.

  It had seemed to take an age before the ambulance had arrived, and then things had happened so fast, her father had been whisked away, and they had dashed around the house getting dressed before leaping into the car to follow. By the time they arrived at the hospital there had been no sign of her dad. It had taken fifteen minutes before they had located him, and now here she stood with her face close to the glass, her hands tugging at one another as she said a silent prayer.

  Along with the heartache came the guilt, the truth was she treated her parents like dirt, she was a brat, a spoiled little brat, and now her dad was in hospital and he looked awful, his complexion grey against the stark white pillow, dark smudges of pain beneath his closed eyes. Suddenly, all the times she had been a bitch came flooding into her mind, the spiteful looks she had thrown at them both, the rolled eyes and looks of disdain she would often sport when they asked her something she considered trivial.

  The truth was they were great parents, deep down she knew that, and yet only now was she admitting it to herself, and if her dad died then there would be no chance to put things right. The thought was so acute that she actually gasped and took a step back from the window, and then yelped as she felt the hands on her shoulder, spinning around to see her mother looking at her with haunted eyes.

  'What did they say?' Morgan asked, both desperate to know the truth and yet dreading the answer.

  Hannah took a quick sharp breath. 'They're trying to get him stabi
lised, and they're running tests,' she paused and looked into her daughter's brown eyes, 'they think it could be a brain tumour.'

  Morgan lurched back again, her mother's hands sliding from her shoulders. '''Tumour''!?' she whispered in shock.

  'We have to stay strong, Morgan, your father's in good hands,' Hannah said as the tears slipped from her eyes, the weight of what had happened pressing down on her soul.

  '''Tumour'',' Morgan repeated and shook her head as if to dispel the horrible word from her brain, but it was already lodged there, and she could feel it seeping into her consciousness like an immovable dark stain.

  'All we can do is wait to see what happens, as soon as he's stable then they will sort him and…'

  'But what if he dies?' Morgan whispered, her body starting to shake with shock.

  Stepping forward, Hannah lifted her hands again to her daughter's shoulders. 'We can't think that way, they don't even know if he has a tumour yet.'

  'So why did you say it, why did you use that word?' Morgan's voice started to rise, the fear and dismay colliding together.

  'The doctor said it was a possibility, he was the one who used the word, but we need to be strong, we need to do all we can for your father.'

  Morgan found herself nodding as the tears slid free and then she fell forward into the mother's arms, the two of them hugging one another tight as through the glass window James Pence lay fighting for his life, death hovering in the air as if trying to decide whether to take him now or hang on a bit just for the hell of it.

  29

  Samantha Bell leapt to her feet and then immediately slumped back down on the sofa, her eyes wide and full of terror.

  'Taken?' she whispered, her hands shaking as she looked up at Bannister.

  Lasser stood near the door to the living room, the house was neat and tidy, the scent of floral air freshener filled the air as Clara Bell's mother unravelled before their eyes.

  'Please, you have to find her, you have to find her and bring her back to me,' she pleaded.